Chameleon I: Emeralds and Green Light
by Alexannah
Summary: -ON HIATUS-
1. Blood, Parchment and Tears

Summary: Harry is struggling to come to terms with the loss of the closest parental figure in his life, and the latest of his years has left him lonely and untrusting. But when Albus Dumbledore offers him moral support, the two start out on an emotional journey, during which Harry begins to regain his faith in others, and together they begin to rebuild the fragile bond they once shared. But circumstances around them shift, and, in the battle to defeat Voldemort, their relationship is put to the ultimate test. Can they withstand it?

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Violence, mild child abuse, mild language, sensitive topic/issue/theme

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; that privelege belongs to JK Rowling. Unfortunately.

Author's Notes: Here it is guys, the first chapter of the beta'd version! Enjoy! Please r/r!

* * *

**Emeralds and Green Light**

**Chapter One: Blood, Parchment and Tears**

By Alexannah

This chapter is for Jocasta, who read it first

_To be mad at someone – that is easy. To be mad at someone for the right reason, at the right time, and at the right degree – that is not easy._

_- **Aristotle**_

That cursed poltergeist.

The route from the headmaster's office to Gryffindor Tower was not a particularly long one, but journeys, as a rule, tended to take longer whenever Peeves was around. It was only after changing direction twice — due to the various Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Peeves had let loose in a fit of end-of-term spirits, one of which was a Portable Avalanche — that Albus Dumbledore finally reached his destination. After issuing a soft apology to the newly awoken Fat Lady, the headmaster climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Albus took the stairs up to the dormitories, silently opened the door belonging to the Fifth-Year boys, and stepped inside. There, he was met with the sight of the room's five slumbering inhabitants and the sounds of their due snoring.

He checked that he was still invisible before carefully drawing nearer to one of the four-posters. At once, his heart sank.

This ... He had been afraid of this.

At first glance, Harry Potter appeared as untroubled as the rest of his door-mates, but a closer inspection indeed proved otherwise. The boy was twitching about fitfully, his brows knitted and his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. Every now and then, he would mumble softly — too softly to rouse the other boys in the dormitory, but loudly enough that his distress was discernible. When Albus lit his wand discreetly and held it aloft, he saw the dark shadows that had come to form underneath Harry's eyes. Over on the bedside table, there stood a lone goblet of Dreamless Sleep Potion, its contents emptied.

The covers had been twisted and were now half-hanging off the mattress; Albus reached out and eased them out from under Harry before smoothing them into their proper place. Feeling the movement, Harry unwittingly let out a small sob into his pillow; when he turned his head, Albus saw tear streaks on his face. Without thinking, the old headmaster gently reached and began softly stroking Harry's back, as a parent would do to soothe an uneasy child. The sleeping Harry didn't appear to have any objections, and Albus doubled in his efforts, wincing at feeling how thin the boy had become.

In his sleep, Harry sighed. As he did so, he moved his head, and when Albus caught sight of the words cut into his young skin, he felt bile rising in his throat.

_I must not tell lies._

As though he had read Albus' mind, Harry groaned and let out another sob. The headmaster drew nearer, letting his arms encircle Harry's form, pulling him closer. Subconsciously, Harry turned his head, burying it in Albus' shoulder.

For a long time, the two remained in such manner. It was only when light began to creep into the dormitory and the other boys started to stir that Albus realised just how painful his knees' constant contact with the wooden floor was and pulled apart.

Later that morning, when Harry awoke, his mind was on — and dreading — the summer ahead: therefore, he didn't think about the faint smell of lemon sweets that had been left on his pyjamas overnight, or the single silver hair that Ron found on his pillow, or the strange dream that reminded him of being hugged as a child, even though he had no memory of any such incident.

If he did, he may have been able to explain to himself the slightly happier feeling that followed him to the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

The journey from King's Cross to Privet Drive was uneventful, but the moment the door of number four was closed, Vernon Dursley exploded with anger about the confrontation with the Order. Immediately, Harry and Dudley both ran for cover, leaving a horrified Aunt Petunia to deal with the situation. As he dragged his trunk upstairs, Harry tried to block out the sounds of their arguing from his ears — not to mention the dull pain that was arising in his forehead. 

Once he was safely enclosed in his bedroom, he shut the door firmly, muffling the rowing from downstairs. He set Hedwig's cage upon his desk and let her out of it; Hedwig, as though she had sensed her owner's misery of the last few days, gave him a soft nip on the finger in comfort before flying out of his opened window. Afterwards, Harry began to slowly unpack his possessions. Every now and then, he paused to listen to the voices downstairs. He couldn't make out the words, but he had an idea what his aunt and uncle were fighting about.

After a while, however, Harry heard the slam of the front door, followed by footsteps stomping down the garden path. Harry sighed; he decided to abandon the rest of his possessions, but not before digging out a couple of Defence books. If he was indeed a weapon, he might as well prepare himself for the part. As he flicked through his OWL-level stuff, he wondered if he should pick up some extra NEWT textbooks, or some even more advanced ones, when he went to Diagon Alley — which he wouldn't be doing anyhow, until he received his OWL results.

It was getting dark when he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Before Harry could even answer, the door opened and his cousin's head was poking through the gap.

"Dudley?" Harry pushed his schoolbooks to one side, eyeing his visitor warily. "What do you want?"

Dudley was trembling as he shuffled into Harry's room. To his surprise, Harry noticed that he had in fact lost a considerable amount of weight since the last summer. He was still huge, but definitely not as huge as he used to be.

It took a moment for Harry to notice that his cousin looked white and scared. Dudley glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the scattered objects Harry had left lying around. His voice uncharacteristically quiet, he mumbled, "'M glad you're back."

At first, Harry thought he'd heard wrong.

"Well," he said at last, clearing his throat, "that's ... erm ... that's something I never thought I'd hear coming from you." _What's next_, he wondered, _Malfoy owling me, begging to be my best friend?_

Dudley anxiously shifted on the spot.

"I don't like being on my own," he whispered. "Not — not with Mum and Dad rowing like that."

Harry looked at his cousin thoughtfully. "They've been doing it a lot, then?"

Dudley nodded. "At least once a week. They have a big row, and then Dad goes out drinking, and then they row again. It's horrible."

"What do they argue about?"

"Everything. Work. Chores." If possible, Dudley became even more ashen-faced. "M-m-m — "

"Magic," Harry supplied for him.

Dudley nodded again.

Harry had an alien feeling — a very small stab of pity for Dudley. He'd heard from various people what it was like when parents split up, and it hadn't sounded exactly appealing. So, in spite of his shaky relationship with his cousin, Harry struggled to find some words of comfort for him. "Look, Dudley," he began, sounding more feeble than he would have liked, "it's … probably just a phase. I'm sure it'll be over soon."

Though Dudley didn't look like he believed Harry, he nonetheless appeared better for the assurances. As he turned back towards the door, he gave Harry what could almost have passed as a smile, then shuffled back out the room as quickly as he had come in.

* * *

Dudley had been right about one thing. Vernon Dursley was in a bitter temper that summer, and he took it out on whomever was around. Harry, for the most part, stayed well out of his way, and apart from one incident with a bicycle pump, he got through the opening of the holiday unscathed — physically, anyway. Inside, Harry was furiously sour about the events that had taken place at the end of the school year. He was mad at himself, at Dumbledore, at Snape, at his family — he was mad at everyone, actually; and so he kept silent, fearful of everything spilling out at the wrong moment and in front of the wrong person. 

On the first night of the holiday, Harry discovered that he'd left his Dreamless Sleep Potion back at Hogwarts. Just before going to bed, he scribbled a note to whomever was still at school and sent it off with Hedwig — rather reluctantly, as Hedwig was the only friendly presence he had at Privet Drive. Yet he felt that he had no choice. Sleeping without the potion made him uneasy — he hadn't done so since Sirius had died — and accustomed as he was to being plagued with nightmares, it wasn't something he fancied all the same.

Thus, for as long as he could, Harry tried to stay awake. He did whatever he could to keep his mind off of sleep, from reading to counting Hippogriffs. But the day had been a long one, and Harry was far more tired than he cared to admit. Despite his varied attempts to keep his eyes open, as the hours passed on, he felt his lids getting heavier and heavier, and soon, he realised that they were closing, whether he liked it or not ...

* * *

_He knew this place._

_He was inside a tunnel, walking along its dim path. Above him, roots hung from the ceiling, and the uneven ground was littered with pieces of rubble and clods of earth. Every time Harry turned a corner, he thought he saw a black tail whip out of sight — and he could hear the telling sounds of panting and padded footsteps. His quarry wasn't that far ahead, then. He could catch up._

_But Harry had a stitch in his side: every time he sped up, the dog he was following did, too._

_"Sirius?" he called out into the darkness, his voice echoing. "Sirius, wait — slow down!"_

_Harry turned round the last corner; there stood Sirius himself, standing in front of an old archway covered with a tattered, black veil. The veil was fluttering a little, and Harry could see light the other side. His attention, however, did not rest upon the unusual structure, but on the man standing before it. Why was Sirius looking at the veil like that, Harry wondered?_

_Then Harry understood._

_"Sirius, no!"_

_Harry lunged at his godfather, but Sirius had already walked through; "No!" Harry cried out again, "Sirius, come back!"_

_He leaned against the wall, trying to regain his breath. From the other side of the flapping fabric, Sirius' voice sounded. "Come on, Harry … it's no big deal … catch me … just walk through …"_

_Slowly, Harry walked forward, as though he were in a trance. Yet even as he was stepping inside, the world around him turned into a confounding blur ... For what seemed like an eternity, Harry no longer knew place or sense ... _

_Until suddenly, just like that, the world became solid again, and he was in somewhere new._

_Harry looked at his surroundings. Then he realised just_ where _he was._

_His first instinct was to turn and run back through the veil — but the archway had vanished, leaving only a solid wall in its place. His heart hammering, Harry turned to face Sirius, who stood in front of Harry, grinning as though he had played the ultimate trick ... And before Harry could even open his mouth to confront him, or even ask him what was going on, Sirius' features changed smoothly into those of someone else ..._

_"Come now, Harry," smirked Dolores Umbridge, "surely you aren't planning on leaving so soon? I have such an exiting evening planned for you; you don't want to miss it, surely?"_

_Harry swallowed. Obediently, he sat down at the desk that had mysteriously appeared before him and took the black quill into his right hand._

_"That's it, Harry," said Umbridge approvingly. "Now, you may begin writing."_

_Automatically, Harry wrote on the parchment. The words 'I must not tell lies' etched themselves not onto the paper, but into the flesh of his hand._

_"Now they'll never heal!" Harry shouted at Umbridge, even as his blood trickled onto the parchment's surface. "They were just faint scars, and now they're back to cuts!"_

_Umbridge merely smirked wider. "Tut, tut, Harry. Where are your manners? You wouldn't shout like that at Lord Voldemort, would you?"_

_"What?" Harry exclaimed. "But — you're not him — you're not Voldemort — "_

_"Am I not, Potter?"_

_Instantly, Harry dropped his quill. Harry didn't know when it had happened, but Umbridge was gone now; instead, the _true_ bane of his existence was now in her place._

_Voldemort, having caught sight of Harry's bleeding hand, gave a sardonic, cruel laugh. All of a sudden, Harry let out an agonised cry, his hands rushing to clutch at the scar on his forehead. "Get out!" he yelled. "Leave me alone!"_

_But Voldemort only pointed his wand at him ... Harry, regardless of his pain, felt his arms go slack ... until his right hand reached up again, this time of its own accord, to pick up the fallen quill ..._

_And Harry, in spite of himself, in spite of his internal protests, began to write._

_'I must not tell lies', he scratched out onto the blood-spattered parchment. 'I must not tell lies'. 'I am an insolent brat who deserves to be starved until Christmas'. 'I killed Sirius Black'. 'I am a murderer'._

_"N-no — " Harry managed to get out, not that it did him any good ... Voldemort was far too strong. Voldemort was laughing at him, his voice high and loud and cold ..._

_And Harry ... Merlin help him, but he couldn't stop writing ... He could feel his own blood trickling down his forehead, into his eyes, down in neck; the pain of it was unbearable ... and still the words came, cut into his skin ... And it was always the same word, over and over again ..._

_'Murderer' ..._

_'Murderer' ..._

**_MURDERER_** —

Harry jerked awake, gasping for breath.

There were figures surrounding him, he soon came to realise, all of them talking. As he reached for his glasses, he gasped again. Blood was smeared on his sheets.

As he stared, his half-awake mind trying to comprehend where it had come from, a pair of hands grabbed him roughly by the front of his pyjamas.

"Vernon, leave him!" cried Aunt Petunia.

Harry struggled to break out of his uncle's grasp before he suffocated. "What in thunder do you think you're doing, boy?" growled the purple face in front of him.

Frantically, Harry shook his head and tried to speak. "I — wasn't — doing — anything — "

"You were screaming," Dudley's voice trembled.

"Dudley, get back to bed, now!" snarled his father. Dudley quickly obeyed, casting Harry a last glance before scuttling out.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath. "I — " he began, but broke off as his uncle shook him hard.

"What do you think you're doing, waking us up at all hours, you disrespectful little — "

"Vernon, put him down, just leave it!" Petunia pleaded futilely, but Vernon did not listen; instead, he took Harry by the shoulder and threw him backwards. Instinctively, Harry closed his eyes, flinging out his arms to stop himself falling on his face. With a last bellow — "One more sound from you, boy, and you're history!" — Uncle Vernon stormed from Harry's bedroom, his wife following hurriedly.

* * *

The next morning, Harry came down for breakfast so tired that he was barely aware of his surroundings. If he had been, he wouldn't have come to the kitchen at all. His appetite hadn't been the same since Sirius' death — it seemed to have vanished without trace. 

Vernon was apparently still in bed with a serious hangover, explaining why he had reacted so badly to Harry's disturbance last night. Dudley had already eaten and left the house, no doubt to meet up with his gang to terrorise the younger inhabitants of the neighbourhood. Glad for the lack of company, Harry took his seat and grabbed a slice of dry toast. As he nibbled at it, Aunt Petunia sat in huffy silence.

Breakfast hadn't lasted long when Petunia stood up, staring out the open kitchen window. Harry glanced up in time for her shriek as a large tawny owl soared straight into the room, carrying an envelope and a small package.

The owl landed with a clatter next to the kitchen sink. Harry reached out to take the letter, but Aunt Petunia brushed his arm out of the way.

"Hey — " he began, but broke off when he saw that the envelope was indeed addressed to Mrs Petunia Dursley ('The Kitchen, Number Four Privet Drive'). Aunt Petunia held the missive with trembling fingers; Harry, remembering the Howler she'd received last summer, didn't bother telling her that this one was benign.

"Who's that from?" he demanded. Petunia ignored him and, realising this envelope wasn't going to blow up in her face, she slit it open, glaring at Harry as she did so.

Enclosed was a letter — as well as a second envelope. Petunia glanced at the envelope warily before unfolding the letter. Her eyes narrowed as she read down the page. At one point, they seemed to soften slightly, but at the end of it, Harry was sure that it had been a trick of the light — now, she looked _furious_.

"How _dare_ …" she hissed, stuffing the letter back into the envelope as though it was the most offensive thing she had ever seen. She proceeded to glare at the envelope hatefully, but as the seconds ticked by, her anger seemed to fade a little.

She took a couple of deep breaths before looking at the second letter crumpled in her hand. "That's for you," she addressed Harry in a clipped tone, and Harry dropped his knife just in time to catch the letter flung at his face.

A furtive glance told him that his aunt had gone back to ignoring him. She was now washing the dishes rather vigorously; Harry suspected the crockery they'd use later would be somewhat chipped. Mollified, Harry looked at his envelope. It was the usual parchment, but he only vaguely recognised the writing on it — certainly, it wasn't that of Ron, Hermione or Hagrid. The package the owl had brought lay forgotten on the bench, and feeling that now was a good time as any to leave, he slipped off his chair, grabbed the package and raced up the stairs to his room.

Once he'd sat down on the bed, he inserted a thumb through the small gap and ripped the envelope open. The writing was a narrow, italic script. Harry stared blankly at it for a minute before registering where he'd seen that writing. The second he did, he pulled the letter open properly in a rush.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know that I'm probably the last person with whom you would want to speak with, and so I will try and keep this short (forgive me if I do not succeed). But there are some things that I need to say to you._

_The first of them is this: although I know that I cannot ever understand what you are going through, please know that I am trying. I realise you must be hurting; furthermore, I also know how angry you must be with me. For this, I am sorry a hundred times over. I know that a mere worded apology, no matter how sincere, does not suffice; but oh, my dear boy, how I wish it did. Every day do I endeavour to make up for all the wrong I have caused you._

_With this letter, I have enclosed a Muggle device, one highly recommended by Arthur Weasley. This apparatus is enchanted to work within the bounds of Hogwarts — also, I feel inclined to let you know that I am in current possession of its twin. If you want something or have any problems, you need only contact me at the number listed at the bottom of this letter. I believe you may also use this device as a way of easily keeping in contact with your friends, as well._

_There is another item in this package, Harry. This you must keep on your person AT ALL TIMES. It will immediately inform us if you are in danger or need some sort of assistance._

_I was unable to inform you sooner, but I am arranging for one of us to come and stay with you during your time at Privet Drive. I am hoping that you can expect an arrival within the next few days, but I am afraid that I cannot promise anything. Thus, I encourage you to keep in touch with the Muggle device. If you have any preferences on whom you would like to come, let me know. There was no shortage of volunteers, but in view of recent events, every available person is currently tied up with Order work. The Ministry is also insisting on an inquiry about the episode last week, which most involved are expected to be on hand for. Don't worry, Harry — I have insisted that you and your friends be kept out of it, and for once, the Ministry has agreed._

_We will have you out of Privet Drive soon, Harry. This time, I do promise._

_Sometime, we will need to speak in person. We have a lot of things that need to be discussed, none of which are fit for letter-writing. For now, I just want you to know that I have not forgotten you. You are currently the Order's number one priority, and I am personally seeing to other living arrangements for you for the rest of the summer. As yet, I don't know what those might be. I shall explain the situation in greater detail when I next see you._

_There is so much more I want to say, but I cannot express it into words. I hope that the next time we meet, I will be able to._

_I will see you soon, Harry._

_Albus Dumbledore_

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Thanks.


	2. Feel How Bitter this Cold is

Harry put the letter down, picked up the accompanying package and opened it. Inside was what looked like an ordinary Muggle mobile phone, as well as a thin chain from which a small, spherical green jewel dangled and glowed faintly. Harry examined the gem carefully before slipping the chain around his neck. To his surprise, the jewel glowed brighter.

He re-read the letter, frowning. Part of him wanted to just forgive his headmaster and have done with it, but another part — the larger one — was still fuming internally over the recent events. Glumly, Harry wondered if he would ever feel like trusting Dumbledore again. Although, he thought, after having read the letter for the sixth time that day, someone coming to Privet Drive with him was definitely an upside. Indeed, it was probably the best idea Dumbledore had ever had regarding him. For the rest of the day, Harry mused over the contents of the letter and fiddled with the mobile, figuring out how to work it.

* * *

Later on in the evening, after Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone to bed (Vernon was out again), Harry was still awake, his Defence book propped over his lap and a cup of hot chocolate in his hand — it was no Dreamless Sleep Potion, but he hoped it would relax him enough sleep some. Once he had finished reading the chapter, he tried to run through his Occlumency exercises, without much success. He considered throwing something to vent his frustration over his lack of concentration, but didn't – the last thing he needed was another scene with the Dursleys.

As he was taking a sip of his hot chocolate, the doorbell rang.

Harry sat up and stretched his aching limbs, wondering who could be calling so late, and heard Aunt Petunia descend the stairs — when, all of a sudden, a familiar voice drifted upwards.

Harry froze.

His research and tired muscles were forgotten as Harry jumped to his feet and bolted from the room. He took the stairs three at a time before coming to an abrupt standstill four steps from the bottom, and took in the sight of Aunt Petunia standing aside to let Dumbledore into the house.

Despite his bitter thoughts, Harry couldn't help but feel pleased at the sight of his headmaster. Contact with someone in the wizarding world was something he was all too keen on having, and he hoped that Dumbledore might have brought him the sleeping potion, and, hopefully, arrangements for someone to stay at Privet Drive with him.

Petunia shut the front door and hastily withdrew into the kitchen, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone. There was the smallest of awkward pauses before Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, perhaps we can go inside …?"

As the headmaster gestured toward the living-room doorway, Harry noticed a hint of nervousness in his voice. Nodding dumbly, Harry followed Dumbledore into the room, closing the door behind them.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast a soundproofing charm around the walls and door. Then he turned to face Harry.

"How are you doing?" he asked softly.

At that, Harry found himself biting back an angry retort — how did Dumbledore expect he was doing? Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, Harry just shrugged, studying the floor and waiting for Dumbledore to speak again.

The headmaster sat down and retrieved a bottle of purple potion from his robes. He regarded Harry for a moment before handing it over. "You look really tired, Harry. Have you been sleeping at all?"

Harry, taken aback by the gentleness in Dumbledore's voice, unthinkingly shook his head — but when he saw the concern cross Dumbledore's face, he added awkwardly, "Not very well … sir."

"What about meals?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I just don't get hungry."

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Where do the Dursleys stand on this?"

Harry flopped into a chair. "They don't really care. Aunt Petunia's been a bit … funny lately. She hasn't been cooking anything, so basically it's up to us to feed ourselves. Not that it's really been very different," he muttered as an afterthought.

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, Harry became aware of just how tired the old headmaster looked, and guiltily, he wondered if that had been his doing.

"Harry," Dumbledore began softly, "you need to try and eat something regularly."

Harry shook his head again. "I don't — "

" — get hungry, yes, I know. I am not saying that you need to force yourself to eat a full three-course meal; just something every now and again. If you can't face proper food, then perhaps sweets are the answer. I've always maintained that they're better than nothing."

"Dudley's still on his diet, so we don't have stuff like that 'round the house anymore."

"You can always ask; I'm sure that your aunt would — "

At once, Harry's head snapped up. In a sudden rush, his frustration and bitterness came flooding back to him, and as he stared up at Dumbledore in utter incredulity, he thought, _He really doesn't know me at all!_

"No, I _can't_ just ask!" The words tumbled from his mouth before he could think about what he was saying. "I'm not — I'm not going to just go asking to be fed! I'm _not_ a charity case!"

"Harry ..." Dumbledore leaned over and placed a hand on Harry's arm; Harry flinched slightly and Dumbledore hurriedly withdrew it. "Please calm down, Harry; no-one's going to think less of you if you ask for help — "

"SO THEN WHERE _WAS_ EVERYBODY LAST YEAR?" Harry burst out, getting on his feet without realising it. "WHERE THE HELL WAS EVERYONE WHEN I NEEDED THEIR HELP _THEN_?"

Suddenly, it was as though words failed him: he needed a way to explain, a way to show just what he was going through, and words — they simply weren't _good enough_ —

_WHAM_!

Harry blinked.

For a moment he couldn't understand why his anger was now subsiding – normally it raged for much longer … Why was the headmaster clutching his nose? Why, where had all that blood come from ...?

At last, Harry came to a horrific conclusion.

_Did..._ I_ do that?_

He stared at his hands, balled into fists. By now, his anger had gone, and all he was was afraid. _Bloody hell_, he thought, even as he felt his own blood draining from his face.

He'd just punched a teacher.

* * *

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed, pulling the door open.

"For heaven's sake, woman, what is it?"

"Vernon — there's one of THEM here — in the living room — "

Vernon Dursley growled unintelligibly, stormed from his bed and into the hall, and hammered on the living room door when he found that he could not open it.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he yelled furiously at the stranger he knew was inside. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE? COME OUT HERE, OR I'LL — "

The door clicked open. Vernon blinked. Why, he knew he'd only hit the door, yet the freak in front of him was sporting a bloody nose. He glared into the room and saw his nephew looking pale and frightened; Harry's hands were curled into fists, and one of them was covered with telltale blood.

Vernon was torn between beating down Harry for using violence, or congratulating him on showing one of those abnormal people what happened if they thought they could just saunter in whenever they pleased.He settled for yelling. "WHAT'S GOING ON?" he thundered. Then he turned his attention back onto the interloper. "WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

The robed man held up a hand, and Vernon suddenly fell silent.

"By nabe ith… hode od, ib you will…" The man drew out his wand — both Vernon and Petunia backed into the wall — but he merely touched it to his battered nose, making the blood disappear. He touched his nose gingerly, then returned his wand to his pocket. "That's better. Forgive me; my name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm Harry's headmaster." He held out a hand, but when neither Dursley took it, he dropped it. "I daresay Petunia remembers me," Dumbledore said quietly, eyeing her.

"You've met?" Vernon asked rudely.

"Indeed we have."

Vernon looked at his wife, who seemed to have shrunk into the wall — but she found her voice even so. "W-we haven't d-done anything to the boy. If you're going to take him, go on. We've no business with you."

"I see." The man — Bumblegore, was it? — surveyed Petunia for a moment, before turning back to Vernon. "It seems, then, that I have outstayed my welcome."

Internally, Vernon still steamed with rage, but otherwise he said nothing. He watched as Dumbledore turned his gaze to Harry, who immediately began to babble. "Professor, I — I know I shouldn't have — I didn't mean — "

"Don't worry about it, Harry." Dumbledore smiled wearily at the boy and pulled out a package from his pocket, handing it to him without a word of explanation. "Do you still have the other things I gave you?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Keep them with you all the time, Harry. Keep in touch."

And then the man known as Dumbledore started to move towards the door ... without even so much as a word of apology to either Vernon or his wife ... Surely, that wasn't all there was to the visit?

And so Vernon stepped in Dumbledore's way, his face turning purple again. "Wait," he snarled coldly, glaring at the rascal before him. "You mean — you're _not_ taking the boy?"

Even as he heard his uncle voice the question, Harry felt his insides freeze over. He stared at Dumbledore, not trusting himself to speak.

After a long, terse moment, the headmaster shook his head. "No, Mr. Dursley, not now."

Both Harry's face and spirits fell.

Dumbledore turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry, Harry, but at the moment, it is too risky." He kept his gaze upon him, and Harry could sense that he was trying to communicate soundlessly about their last conversation. Harry nodded silently in response, an awkward lump restricting his breathing.

"WHAT?" cried his uncle. "You can't just leave him with us again! The boy's crazy — he's waking us up all hours — he's a bloody lunatic! He's a danger to my family and no, _you will NOT leave him here_!"

Harry felt himself cringe with embarrassment.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, glared at Vernon as though he were contemplating on hitting him. "Mr Dursley," he started, his tone polite yet obviously insincere, "while I do so hate to inconvenience you, I am afraid that your nephew currently has nowhere else to stay. Thus, I ask that you let him continue to reside here until other arrangements can be made. Furthermore, rest assured that he is _not_ a danger to either you or your family, yet if you truly believe otherwise, you might want to start to consider a course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's. Although," he added thoughtfully, "I'm not entirely sure that they open it to Muggles."

Vernon looked as if he might explode with anger, but Petunia laid a hand on his arm. "Vernon, please be reasonable. Remember last summer? He won't be here for long; it will be alright." She turned to Dumbledore. "The boy can stay, Headmaster."

Harry's mouth fell open; no-one noticed. Dumbledore nodded at Petunia in acknowledgement and looked back at Harry.

"I'll see you soon, Harry. Take care."

Harry nodded, speechless. Dumbledore made a motion as if he were about to grip Harry's shoulder, but seemed to have thought better of it. He nodded to the Dursleys and, with a last small smile at Harry, left the house.

Vernon started to growl at Harry, but Petunia grabbed him and half-pulled him upstairs, where they began to argue. Harry was left in the hall.

It was the sound of the door closing that got to him first; followed by the dull thud and click of the lock and the footsteps travelling back down the gravel path. Harry felt alone. He _was_ alone. He was lost, cold, abandoned ... As though he were younger than his years, he just stood there in the hall, his hand pressed up on the glass pane of the door, hoping to hear the footsteps returning.

But none came. _Dumbledore had left him again_.

It was a great while after Dumbledore's departure before Harry moved. Admitting defeat, he slowly made his way back to his room.

* * *

Despite the potion, the next night was as bad as the first one. After a vivid nightmare, Harry awoke in a feverish sweat, his body shaking. Uncle Vernon was out again, so fortunately, Harry didn't have to deal with him — but his aunt yelled for him to shut up from the next room, not even bothering to get up. Harry had to admit this was a huge improvement on the last night.

Giving up on all thought of sleep, Harry slid out of bed to get his books, but as he did so, he was overcome with a strange sense of déjà vu. Immediately, his eyes fell upon his bedclothes.

Trying hard not to panic, Harry searched for a few minutes before realising where the blood was seeping from. Even as he stared, the wounds on his hand began to close, leaving no evidence that they had opened at all in the first place. As Harry shakily picked up his schoolbooks and tried to immerse himself in them, the mental image of his own hand swam over his mind: deep cuts, weeping blood, spelling the same five words again and again. '_I must not tell lies_'.

_I must not tell lies_.

**TBC… **

**

* * *

**

**y****_Note about reviewing:_**_ Please, for the love of Merlin, **do not** review simply to tell me to **update**! I get it all the time and am sick of it. **If **you review, **please** say what it is you did or didn't like, and bulk out your review as much as possible. Make it worth the review alert, please! As always I love guesses where the story is headed and what I'm going to do next, and helpful suggestions are always welcomed. Don't flame.  
Thanks. _


	3. Le Sauvage!

**Chapter Three – Les Sauvage!**

By Alexannah

_Even in the desolate wilderness, stars can still shine  
- __**Aoi Jiyuu Shiroi Nozomi**_

When Harry collapsed on his bed, fully clothed, he wanted nothing more than to sleep. The potion Dumbledore had brought was just waiting to be used. Harry didn't even bother to get undressed. He just downed the potion and pulled the covers up round him, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to come, trying not to think about that afternoon.

Despite the potion, that night was the worst.

"I'VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOU!"

Harry jerked awake and rolled over, coming face-to-face with his furious uncle, who looked ready to explode. He scrambled upright and cold dread seized him as he saw his bedcovers.

Vernon made a grab at Harry, but he dodged and fell out of bed, hurrying to his feet and ducking as his uncle advanced, smelling of drink and looking out of his mind. Harry's brain froze – all he could think to do was run. Vernon seized the bedside lamp and Harry threw himself on the floor, covering his face with his arms as heard the china shatter.

Vernon started towards him again, but tripped and sprawled. Harry seized his chance – vaulting over the bed, he darted out the door and past his aunt and cousin, and ran for it.

_Run. Quick. He's gonna kill me._

The front door had been left unlocked. Uttering a quick prayer of thanks to all the gods he'd learned about at Muggle primary school, Harry pulled it open and sprinted down the road.

_He's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me…_

The words churned round Harry's head, leaving no room for logical thought. He turned this way and that, just wanting to put as much distance between him and his crazy uncle as possible.

Harry had no idea where he was heading. Finally he tripped on a tree root and fell, knocking his glasses off. He felt about and put them on, looking around.

He'd completely left Little Whinging. In fact, Harry had no idea how far he'd gone, or the faintest idea where he was. As he got slowly to his feet, he could just make out that he was in some kind of wood. Trees surrounded him, and the noises of the wind moving through them set him on edge.

Harry bent over, trying to get rid of a stitch in his side, and attempted to gather his thoughts. There was no way he could go back to the Dursleys now. He was completely stranded, and didn't know what to do.

A car revved in the distance. Harry straightened up. It was getting nearer. He strained his eyes, and saw a pair of headlights coming from where he'd just run from. As they got nearer, Harry realized they were heading right for him. He took to his feet again and ran.

The trees ended; at the edge was another road. Harry turned left and started to run along the side, but the car was getting nearer. Looking back over his shoulder, the car rounded the corner. It was the Dursleys' car.

Harry, his eyes on the car and not on the road, stumbled again. He flung out his arms to cushion his fall and landed heavily on his left one. The car was too near. He tried to get to his feet, but pain shot unexpectedly up from his elbow and it gave out. Harry braced himself for the car to hit him.

It didn't.

There was complete silence. Harry lay absolutely still for several minutes, before slowly raising his head.

The car was nowhere to be seen.

Harry got to his feet shakily and looked all round him.

_I can't have just imagined it._

Harry moved across the road in case another car came, and felt for his wand, hoping to cast some light. He felt in his pockets, but it wasn't there.

Maybe he'd dropped it while he was running? Harry looked round, his eyes now getting used to the darkness, but he couldn't see it.

_I left it on my bedside table. That's why it's not here._

Harry groaned and sank to the ground. Pain shot up his arm again. He felt it gingerly. It hurt, but he didn't think it was broken.

_What am I going to do?_

Harry felt completely lost. He didn't know where the hell he was, he had no wand, it was late at night and he was dressed in a thin t-shirt, he was stranded –

Wait. _Stranded._

Something stirred in his memory. Where had he heard someone say that?

"_Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor…_"

Harry fumbled in his pocket and nearly cried with relief at finding a fistful of money. He climbed awkwardly up and hesitated before flinging out his right arm.

"Welcome to the Knight – oh, 'ello, 'Arry! Or is it Neville this evenin'?"

"It's Neville," Harry said tiredly, but he couldn't help but smile at a friendly face. Stan hadn't changed a lot since Harry had last seen him – he looked as pimply as ever.

Stan surveyed him closely. "Are you in trouble again?"

"You could say that. How much are tickets again?"

"Depends where you wanna go. Where you headin'?"

"I don't know." Harry thought hard. Grimmauld Place was out of the question. As much as he loved the Weasleys, he couldn't just turn up. For one thing, he didn't fancy them knowing why he had fled from Privet Drive, for another, anywhere he went where there were Order members meant being sent back to the Dursleys.

"How far away do you go from here?"

Stan looked surprised at the question. "Are you doin' a runner or somefink?"

"Yeah, that's right. I'll give you a tip if you don't tell anyone. How far can you take me?"

Stan stared at him for a moment, then said, "Anywhere Britain or Europe – well, 'slong as it's connected. We can go through the Channel Tunnel, see."

Harry was surprised Stan was offering to take him as far as Europe. He considered the matter, but there wasn't a lot to consider. He was completely defenceless, going back to the Dursleys for his wand was out of the question, and he couldn't ask anyone to do it for him. Voldemort was in Britain, so it made sense that, as long as Harry was wandless for, he should be as far away as possible.

"Er… France?"

Stan grinned. "Anywhere in France?"

"Anywhere… well, within reason. Away from Beauxbatons and anywhere there might be giants," Harry half-joked.

"Right, France it is. That'll be one Galleon and three Sickles, and a nice tip for secrecy."

Harry dug in his pockets and pulled out his money. A couple of coins escaped and started rolling in all directions.

"Oh 'eck. Look, jus' get on board, an' I'll pick these up."

Harry ascended the stairs and collapsed on the nearest bed. Stan appeared a moment later.

"No luggage?" he enquired as Harry handed him two Galleons.

"No."

"Ah, travelling light. I see. Take 'er away, Ern."

* * *

As promised, the Knight Bus dropped Harry off just outside a Muggle town. 

"You won't tell anyone, right?" Harry asked Stan.

Stan mimed zipping his mouth shut. "Sauvage dragons wouldn't trouver le de moi."

Harry stared.

"Means wild dragons wouldn't get it from me. You gonna stay 'ere, you need to be up on your lingo, Neville."

Harry had been a member of the French Club at his primary school for a year, but he was only allowed to attend because Dudley went to the Computer Club at the same time. Harry had learnt a few phrases, which was why he'd chosen France, rather than somewhere further abroad.

As Harry had left the bus, the sun was coming up. Harry walked further into the town, wandering around and looking at the closed shops. It wasn't till the sun was up properly and he started to see people on the streets, than he realized what he'd just done.

* * *

_You idiot, Harry!_

Being stranded with no money, food or wand was bad enough. Think being stranded with no food, no money, no wand, and in a foreign country.

Harry thought he'd rather take Voldemort.

Funnily enough, he hadn't started panicking yet. Despite his worries, he was enjoying the walk and the warm sun, and the town was certainly not a bad one. Harry wandered round the streets, taking in the sights, enjoying free samples of the food and drink in the market.

But as the day wore on, Harry realized he needed a plan of action. Maybe if he could find out where the French wizarding bank was – there had to be one, after all – maybe he could send a message to Gringotts to get his money transferred, or something.

Earlier Harry had been both surprised and relieved to find some Muggle money mixed with his wizard coins. He remembered going down the shop for some milk for Aunt Petunia, and was grateful she had forgotten to take the change from him.

Harry was dog-tired and his feet were aching – he needed somewhere to go to try and clear his muddled mind. He spotted a café on the corner and headed straight for it.

The inside was small, but bright and cheery. Harry looked around. There were a few round tables squashed in, covered in red-and-white check tablecloths. The place seemed fairly popular – a crowd of Japanese tourists sat jabbering away happily in one corner and an American couple were perusing the menus. A small knot of men were immersed in serious conversation as far away from the counter as possible. None of them looked too happy about being in a public place, and kept shooting furtive looks around the café. One spotted Harry and stared. Harry moved quickly away from them. He supposed he must look a sight, but the group made him feel uneasy.

"Puis-je vous aider?"

Harry jumped and tore his eyes away from the occupants of the table.

"S-sorry," he stammered, "I don't speak French."

* * *

Finally, the last day before closing. Heather Louise was in a good mood as she wiped down the café tables, humming to herself. Customers were giving her odd looks, particularly the usual quiet group of men in the corner. For some reason they got on her nerves – they had been in and out of the café for nearly a fortnight, but never ordered anything. Today though, even they could not dampen her spirits. 

At the end of the day, the café owners would be taking a holiday and the place would close for a week. Heather Louise had not had a break from work in a long time, and was looking forward to her time off. She planned to have a relaxing time, maybe visit her nephew or catch up on paperwork if it got too desperate, without having to worry about shifts. She wanted a bit of quiet time to herself, and nothing would stop that.

Well…

She was replacing the clean cutlery at the counter when a boy walked in. He looked about ten years younger than her, and had a bit of a lost expression on his face. He was around her height, with messy dark hair and glasses, and dressed in a baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. Heather Louise watched as he veered away from the group in the corner, watching them warily.

_I can relate to that._

She left the cutlery and approached him. On closer inspection, he looked pale as if he was ill, and his eyes had dark shadows under them. His clothes looked worse when she was nearer. His trainers looked like they could do with a wash – or a good chuck in the dustbin, which would be easier and more effective.

"Puis-je vous aider?" she asked kindly. The dark-haired boy jumped and turned to look at her. His eyes were startling green, reminding Heather Louise of her grandmother Amena's.

He stammered that he didn't speak French. Heather Louise smiled.

"No problem. I'm English. You are too, aren't you?"

He looked relieved and nodded.

"Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, piece of cake…?"

"Er, a coffee, please… black."

Harry sat down in a chair as the waitress moved towards the kitchen, and pulled out what Muggle money he had. A sudden thought struck him.

Heather Louise kept an eye on the teenager as she fetched a coffee pot. He looked deep in thought and was turning some coins over in his hand, staring at them. She noticed he seemed to be almost cradling his left arm, as if he'd hurt it.

He looked up as she approached again.

"I'm sorry, I only just realized – I've only got English money -"

"Oh, don't worry, we can get it changed easily… how come you've only got English money? Didn't you change it when you came over?" Heather Louise asked curiously.

The boy at the table suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and she changed the subject.

"No, I don't think there'll be a problem paying in pounds. I'll have a word with the manager, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

He smiled. "Thanks."

She watched him carefully from behind the counter as he sipped his coffee. He looked tired and stressed, and kept rubbing his eyes. She observed the tatty clothes and wondered.

Harry sat with his back to the group, who keep shooting him glances. The coffee, while pleasant, did nothing to help him clear his thoughts. Panic was finally beginning to settle in, and Harry realized he hadn't a clue where to go. The most natural thing to do would be to locate the nearest magical location, but without a wand, an owl, and no knowledge of French geography, Harry didn't know where to start.

It was growing late, and the customers were drifting out. It seemed the café would shut soon. It was only him and the group behind him left when he decided what to do, and stood up and counted out coins, with the intention of finding some place to sit until it got dark, and trying to summon the French version of the Knight Bus, and hope they spoke English. It was a feeble plan, but Harry didn't have anything better.

Things didn't turn out like that.

Harry started to leave at the same time as the men behind him. He stood back to let them past, but they seemed to be scrambling to get out fast, and in the kafuffle, Harry got knocked over.

"Covillaud!" the tallest man snapped, and turned to Harry, holding out his hand. "I am so sorry… here, let me -"

"Thanks," Harry said breathlessly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, and massaging his chest where he'd hit it.

The man who had helped him up was staring at him – or, rather, at something on him. Harry looked down, surprised. He had completely forgotten the chain Dumbledore had given him – it had come out in the scramble, and was now hanging out of his shirt in full view. Harry noticed it was glowing purple, and stowed it quickly out of sight.

"Covillaud, apologize," the tallest man growled at the one who had knocked Harry over. The one he addressed glared at the former, but uttered a few words in French which Harry took as an apology.

"Don't mention it."

It was just the three of them in the doorway now. As the smaller man hurried out of the café, he knocked into Harry again, this time causing his bad arm to hit the door. Harry let out a small cry of pain which, this time, neither of the men seemed to notice as they left.

"Are you alright?"

Harry turned. It was the waitress who had served him. He nodded, even though his arm was still hurting.

"Are you sure? Here, let me look at that."

Harry reluctantly showed her his bruised arm.

"Ouch. That doesn't look very nice. I'd see someone about that if I were you."

"Er, right… I will, thanks."

She continued to stare at him intently. Harry was starting to feel rather uncomfortable. He felt like he was in a teacher's office after being caught doing something against the rules – and he'd had plenty of experience to compare to.

"You're homeless, right?"

The question took him completely by surprise.

"No."

"A runaway, then. Whatever you call it. I've had enough experience to recognize one."

"N-no, I'm not, really," Harry stammered, yet he could tell she knew he was lying.

"What's your name?" she pressed.

"Harry," he said automatically, then mentally kicked himself.

"Right. Harry. I'm not stupid. You get a lot of homeless people and runaway teens in cafes these days. I've been in the business long enough. Not so much round here, but I used to work in London."

That explained her English accent. Harry didn't know what to do. Should he run for it? But his legs seemed glued to the floor, and she seemed to read his thoughts, because she shut the door and stood in between them.

"Look Harry, I'm not going to beat about the bush. Where are you from?"

Harry gave up the internal battle.

"England."

"I surmised as much. Anywhere in particular?"

"Surrey."

The woman sighed. "Well, that narrows it down."

"I…" Harry started, unable to think of anything to add.

"How long have you been away for?"

"Since last night. I came through the Channel Tunnel," Harry mumbled.

_Harry you idiot. You really know how to be discreet, don't you? Now you've gone and got yourself in a nice mess with the Muggles._

Although the woman looked stern, her eyes were soft and full of pity. Harry found a lump arise in his throat and didn't know why.

"Okay, first things first. You look dead on your feet. I think you could do with a good sleep, something to eat… and, no offence, but a wash might do you a bit of good too."

Harry simply stared. She sighed.

"Look Harry, I just want to help, alright? Please don't make it difficult for yourself."

"You're going to call the police, aren't you?"

"I don't know. Just come with me. I'll help you get sorted out, alright?"

Their eyes met and Harry saw that she really did want to help. He sighed.

"Alright."

She wouldn't let him go, after all. He figured playing along and looking for a chance to escape might be the best option.

There was also a part of him that told him he'd been stupid, that he needed to find help. The part of him that seemed to speak in Hermione's voice.

"Where are we going?" he asked as she locked up the café.

"My home. It's not far."

* * *

Following a complete stranger whose name he did not even know home may seem a stupid thing to do, but Harry was too confused and tired to care much. The house was just on the edge of town. She let them both in and sat them both down in her living-room. 

"Right Harry, we're going to play a little game. I am going to tell you something about myself, and you have to copy me."

"Copy you?"

"Yes – for example, I say my name, and you say yours. Alright?"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good. Let's start with the basics. My name is Heather Louise Thrapp. Yours?"

"Harry… Evans," he said, catching himself. He hadn't promised to stay honest, after all.

"Okay. I live at number twenty – _vignt_ -Verte Chemin, Ile d'Aix. Your turn."

Harry dropped his gaze and mumbled, "Four, Privet Drive…"

"Harry?"

"Little Whinging, Surrey."

Heather Louise seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"Okay. I live on my own."

"My aunt and uncle. And my cousin."

"I'm twenty-six."

"Sixteen," Harry said, then added, "Nearly."

"My parents are dead," Heather Louise said quietly. Harry looked up at her sharply.

"So are mine."

There was a long pause.

"Harry, why did you run away?"

Harry stared. He didn't know what to say.

"It's okay. I understand if you don't want to tell me. But sometimes it helps to talk through these things."

Harry looked down at the floor and Heather Louise stood up.

"Harry, I think we can leave it there for now. Do you want a shower? Food?"

Heather Louise promised to get out some clean clothes for Harry (her nephew was a couple of years younger, but apparently around the same size) and she let him use the bathroom.

* * *

Harry emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, towelling dry his wet hair. "Heather Louise?" 

She was in the kitchen, holding Harry's phone. "I charged this up for you, Harry. I believe someone wants to speak with you."

Harry switched the mobile on, and immediately the kitchen filled with the sound of the ringing, making them both jump. Harry switched it off again. Heather Louise sighed.

"Okay, Harry. Let's try again…"

"Right Harry, I'll make you a deal. You can decide whether to answer your phone or not."

Harry looked at her. "What if I don't?"

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the police."

The phone lay innocently on the table. Harry swallowed and thought hard.

_Right. If I answer that, it'll be Dumbledore or someone on the other end. Not good._

_But if Heather Louise calls the police, not only will it make a big mess with the wizardry stuff, they'll make me go back to the Dursleys, or stick me in a Muggle orphanage, or something similar._

_But Dumbledore'll make me go back to the Dursleys too. Him and his damn Plan._

_If I get the police involved, so will the Ministry. Dumbledore'll probably get into trouble…_

_Is that a bad thing? _said a sly little voice in Harry's head. Harry clapped his hands over his ears to shut it out.

_If I told him what the Dursleys were doing… no, that won't work. He's ignored my requests for four years, why would he take notice now?_

_Okay, think big. Voldemort's out there somewhere. I haven't got a wand. If he finds me now, I'm in trouble. If the police get involved, sooner or later he'll find out I'm missing._

_But he'll find out quicker from the Ministry, if they know._

_The Order can protect me if they know where I am._

_Er, what else? Oh, yeah. I can't speak French._

Harry groaned. Weighing up the options was not the best way to clear his head.

_Alright, Harry. Decision time. Better the devil you know, I suppose._

Harry shakily leaned forwards, picked up the mobile and switched it on. He jumped as the ringing sounded loudly through the room.

He looked up at Heather Louise, who nodded encouragingly. Harry pressed the answer key and held the phone to his ear.

For a few seconds there was only silence at the other end. Maybe whoever was there hadn't realized it had stopped ringing. Harry lost his nerve and was about to press the end call button when a voice said, "Hello?" nearly making him drop the phone.

"Harry?" The voice at the other end sounded panicked. "Are you alright? Where are you? Are you safe? Please, tell me you're safe!"

Harry squirmed with guilt at Dumbledore's words.

"I'm okay."

"Oh, thank Merlin. We've all been so worried! Harry, where have you been?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was in France?"

There was a pause, and Dumbledore said, "No, probably not."

Harry blinked a few times. He was sure the prickling feeling was just tiredness.

"Harry, are you really in France? Oh Merlin, it wasn't a Portkey, was it?"

"No, I took the Kn – the bus."

Harry wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Dumbledore evidently picked up on the correction.

"Is there a Muggle at your end?"

"Yes."

"Right. I'll ask questions, you answer yes or no, Harry. Okay?"

Harry nodded, then remembered Dumbledore couldn't see him. "Yes."

"Right. Where are you, exactly? Do you need someone to come and get you? Wait, have you got your wand? Money?"

"Ile d'Aix, yes, no, a bit."

There was silence as Dumbledore worked out the answer.

"You haven't got your wand? You left it at the Dursleys?"

"I was kind of panicking."

"Oh, Merlin. Harry, what happened? Why did you just run off like that?"

Dumbledore sounded almost tearful. Harry sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "I just… I couldn't stay there anymore."

Harry let out a small sob and wiped his face.

"Harry, do you want me to go?" Heather Louise asked quietly. Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"Oh, Harry."

Yes, definitely tearful. Harry's own eyes were streaming and he gave up on the attempt to stop them.

"What's going to happen to me now?"

"I don't know, Harry. But I promise that you won't go back to the Dursleys unless we have no other alternative – and if we don't I swear you will not be alone."

Harry swallowed hard.

"Thank you, sir."

"Right, back to the pressing issue. Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Harry thought. "Yes."

"Good. Do you have the address?"

Harry peered out the window and told Dumbledore the road, the town and Heather Louise's name.

"And it's number twenty."

There was a pause. Harry could hear the scratching of a quill the other end.

"Right. Harry, it will probably be a day or so, before you can be collected."

"Can't you just… you know…"

"Apparate?"

"Yes."

"Unfortunately not. To Apparate, you'll need a clear visual image of your destination, Harry. It's the same with creating Portkeys, so it'll have to be the Muggle way – then there's the problem of actually locating the address. It could take a while. Harry, keep the – um…"

"Phone?"

"Thank you, Harry. Keep the phone on all the time."

"Okay."

"Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"I'm sorry."

Harry tried to reply, but the words seemed to get lost on the way.

"Stay where you are, Harry, I'm on my way. Keep in touch."

There was a click and the line went dead.

**TBC…**

**A/N:** I don't speak French; I use a combination of a dictionary and online translator, neither of which are very reliable. Tell me if I make any serious errors.  
Heather Louise's town is a real place, but the rest of the address I made up.  
Coming soon: Chapter Four – Of Magic and Memories  
Thanks for reading – will write for reviews!  
Alexannah xXx

**_Note about reviewing:_**_ Please, for the love of Merlin, **do not** review simply to tell me to **update**! I get it all the time and am sick of it. **If **you review, **please** say what it is you did or didn't like, and bulk out your review as much as possible. Make it worth the review alert, please! As always I love guesses where the story is headed and what I'm going to do next, and helpful suggestions are always welcomed. Don't flame.  
Thanks. _


	4. Of Magic and Memories

**Chapter Four – Of Magic and Memories**

By Alexannah

_Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice; but for those who love, time is eternity_

_**Henry Van Dyke**_

By evening, the spare room was cleaned and ready, Harry had eaten (a little), and Heather Louise had insisted he spent the night. Even though he had nowhere else to go, he still protested that she didn't have to put up hospitality for him, but she found his hesitation amusing, and assured him (more than once) that she was happy to put him up until his headmaster (or whoever) turned up.

Something about Harry had intrigued Heather Louise, but she couldn't quite work out what. In a way, he reminded her of herself when she was a child… but she couldn't explain why she was so interested in the boy's situation.

* * *

It certainly wasn't bad, Harry thought, watching the light from the cars on the bedroom walls. The bed was comfortable; the room was spacey and neatly furnished. Heather Louise certainly wasn't a bad cook either, although Harry hadn't had the appetite to eat much. 

He sighed and rolled over under the sheets. She'd asked him tentatively about his parents, and he'd repeated what the Dursleys had told him for ten years, and showed her his scar, but nothing else. She seemed very nice, and definitely trusted him. She was pretty too – long, auburn waves and deep brown eyes. Her manners and the way she moved reminded him of someone, although for the life of him he couldn't think who.

It was a little past midnight. Harry wondered who Dumbledore was sending to get him – although Dumbledore had said he himself would come. Did he mean it? Was he coming with someone else from the Order? Harry shook himself mentally – he didn't know why he was obsessing. In spite of everything Dumbledore had said in his last letter, he had lied to Harry, he had abandoned him and he had ignored him for a whole year. Harry was hurt and certainly not ready to see him again – although if his headmaster turned up dressed as a Muggle it might be worth it. Harry couldn't help sniggering slightly at this thought. He just hoped whoever came would be better at appearances than the wizards at the Quidditch World Cup…

* * *

When Harry woke, he was in an unfamiliar bed in darkness. As he lay still, his arms for some reason over his head, the events of the previous day came to him. He closed his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep, but he felt dizzy, and… _What?_

Harry leaned up on one elbow. His hair felt wet. He looked at the pillow, and saw, even in the dim light, a mass of dark stains.

Harry fumbled for his wand, then remembered he didn't have it. He felt the lamp on the bedside table and switched it on.

It was a mess. His pillow was unevenly coated in blood. There was some on his sheets and pyjamas as well. Harry realized he had been tossing and turning in his sleep, getting it everywhere. It didn't take long to locate the source.

It wasn't his lines.

On the insides of both his wrists were deep slashes, as if someone had swiped at them with a blade. They looked fresh and were bleeding profusely. Harry scrambled out of bed, trying not to get blood anywhere else. He immediately, swayed and grasped the headboard. He had stood up too quick and was losing blood fast.

Harry didn't know how he managed to get into the bathroom. He ran his wrists under cold water, hoping it would stall the bleeding, but started to feel dangerously light-headed. Abandoning that plan, he pressed them together into a folded towel, squeezed between his knees. After an agonizingly long time, the bleeding seemed to slow and Harry borrowed two handkerchiefs from a pile of clean laundry and somehow managed to tie one round each wrist. Exhausted and still feeling dizzy, he ran the cold bath tap and tried to clean the blood out of the towels, sheets and pillowcase. He soon discovered that cold water was not the best option, but he didn't dare run the hot, should the noise of the boiler cutting in wake Heather Louise. He kept emptying and refilling the bath, and finally managed to get everything reasonably clean. He wrung it all out as best he could and hung it out in the airing cupboard, hoping Heather Louise wouldn't notice next day.

Harry didn't dare go back to sleep after that. He found some clean bedclothes and successfully changed them, but sat up in bed, reading one of the Muggle stories from the landing bookcase, and praying silently for help. By morning, he had resolved to tell Dumbledore everything, despite their conflict. Harry knew he needed help now, and, painful as it was to admit, Dumbledore was the best person to ask.

* * *

Despite his resolution, Harry slipped into a sleep around dawn, and was awoken by Heather Louise coming in. He quickly shoved his hands under the quilt, and crossed his fingers. 

"Morning, Harry. Sleep well?"

"Okay," he lied. Heather Louise scrutinized him closely.

"You don't look very well. Are you feeling alright?"

Harry nodded but was overcome by a fit of coughing. Heather Louise frowned and moved forwards, placing a hand on his forehead before he could jerk away.

"Liar. You're not at all well. You're really hot; I think you've got a fever."

Harry started to protest, but she noticed him shivering and pulled the covers around him properly.

"You're staying in bed today, Harry. No buts," she added as he opened his mouth. "When your teacher comes, you can both stay until you're well enough to travel."

Harry gave up protesting and lay back as Heather Louise smoothed the covers like Mrs Weasley did. Harry realized he _did_ feel ill; and although he didn't like the fussing, staying in bed didn't sound such a bad thing.

Heather Louise was really kind to him all day; she fixed him a special breakfast of fruit and a pancake when he said he couldn't eat much, and finding ways for him to amuse himself. Harry didn't feel any better by lunchtime, and when Heather Louise took his temperature, she saw it had gone up even more. She instructed him gently but firmly to rest, and left him in peace.

Harry was scared to sleep, but eventually he felt his eyes closing, despite his valiant efforts to keep them open. When Heather Louise came to check on him, she found him in a peaceful slumber, and left him to it; moving down to the living-room with plans to sort through unpaid bills.

* * *

The bills were hardly interesting enough to keep her awake, and Heather Louise didn't realize she'd fallen asleep till she was rudely awoken. Whoever was barking enough to call at this time of night had their finger on the doorbell a lot longer than was strictly necessary. They'd wake Harry up if they weren't careful… Heather Louise was normally a patient woman, but she always tended to be short tempered in the evenings when she was tired, and the stranger had interrupted her sleep, so when she answered the door it was rather more aggressively than usual. As she pulled the door open and growled "_Yes?_" both she and the stranger on the doorstep jumped from shock. 

The man on the doorstep had jumped at the sudden, unfriendly greeting. Heather Louise jumped because she had never seen a more bizarre appearance.

He was tall, thin, and very old, with long silver hair and beard. He had a kind face which was temporarily in an expression of surprise. Behind half-moon glasses he had very friendly blue eyes… they seemed to twinkle even in the dim light and Heather Louise was sure she'd seen them before somewhere… but she was just as sure she'd have remembered this man if she'd seen him. He was wearing jeans, a blue shirt, trainers, a beige jacket and a waterproof coat. The clothes would have looked perfectly ordinary, had they not been on this man – but his features made Heather Louise think of Merlin, or Gandalf… the modern clothes contrasted strongly.

"I'm so sorry… I don't normally get people calling at this time. Can I help you?"

"Heather Louise Thrapp?"

"Yes," she replied, her impatience retreating.

"Albus Dumbledore." He held out a hand and Heather Louise shook it. "Do you have a Harry Potter in residence?"

Harry _Potter_?

The first thought that struck her was that Harry had either lied, or this stranger had got the name wrong. Or he was after another boy altogether, but he knew her name, and it was highly unlikely to be a coincidence.

The second thought was that she had an odd feeling she'd heard the name Harry Potter before. Maybe Harry had mentioned it, and she'd forgotten? Also unlikely, but possible…

The last, and hardest to shake off, was the mixed thoughts Albus Dumbledore caused. The feeling that she'd seen his eyes before hadn't gone away, and there was something oddly familiar about the rest of him too. From the odd way he was surveying her, he was feeling something of the same sort.

"I have a Harry Evans," she said bluntly, pulling herself together. Albus Dumbledore chuckled.

"I should have guessed. May I…"

"Oh, of course; come in!" Dumbledore was standing in the porch and therefore avoiding the rain, but it was still a pretty cold night, despite the time of year.

He stepped into the hall and Heather Louise shut the door behind him and took his coat. She noticed, but didn't think about the fact that the raincoat was bone dry, despite the drizzle outside…

"Where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked as she forced the hall cupboard door shut.

"He's asleep upstairs. You must be his teacher, am I right?"

"I am indeed. I hope he hasn't been any trouble?" the man asked anxiously.

One thing Harry wasn't aware of was that Heather Louise, besides his best efforts, had noticed what he was so desperately trying to hide from her.

"Not exactly," Heather Louise bit her lip, "but I think there are a couple of things you should know."

A spasm of fear flitted across Dumbledore's face.

"I don't know who is responsible for Harry, and I know it isn't any of my business…"

"Go on."

Heather Louise led him into the living room and they both sat down.

"I'm sorry if I seem rude. But Harry has told me a bit of what his life has been like, and I was shocked. I mean, he mostly lives at a boarding school, and yet I've gathered that no-one realized how unhappy he was at home! I know it's nothing to do with me but -"

Dumbledore held up a hand and she fell silent.

"Miss Thrapp, I honestly appreciate your concern, but I am afraid you do not know the full picture."

"I know, I'm only saying -"

"Please, Miss Thrapp, listen to me. There are valid reasons why Harry has had to stay at his relatives' during the school holidays, and I take full responsibility – as I told Harry not long ago." For a moment a shadow seemed to pass over his face, but he shook it off and continued. "The reasons are very difficult to explain, and I won't betray Harry's privacy in revealing them; but I will say that even though we knew it was bad at Harry's, we didn't know the full picture, like you said. I'm hoping to be able to set up an alternative arrangement with Harry as soon as possible – that is, if he listens to me for long enough." Dumbledore gave a weak smile, but Heather Louise got the impression he knew that Harry was less than happy with him, and now she was beginning to see why. But still, even if the man was responsible for Harry's home life, she couldn't help but feel sorry for Dumbledore. Unless he was an extremely good actor, he seemed to genuinely regret what he'd done.

Silence fell for a moment, and then Heather Louise said quietly, "I think there's something you should see, Mr Dumbledore."

She led him quietly upstairs, and entered the spare room. Harry was lying on his front with one arm up over his head, and the other hanging off the bed. The bloody handkerchiefs were in full view.

Dumbledore gasped quietly when he saw them. He moved forwards swiftly and gently eased one half-off Harry's wrist to see how bad it was.

He looked down at Harry in horror, then turned back to Heather Louise.

"They were like that today. Last night I thought I heard someone in the bathroom, but I didn't look. I swear they weren't like that yesterday. I don't think he knows I noticed."

Harry stirred, and Dumbledore eased the makeshift bandage back onto Harry's wrist.

"Miss Thrapp, do you have a first-aid kit?"

Heather Louise nodded. "Somewhere. I'll try and find it…" she hesitated. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

Dumbledore stared at her.

"Okay, bad idea," she mumbled and hurried out of the room.

After dropping a considerable amount of boxes and other items over the bathroom carpet (who knew a medicine cabinet could hold so much?) Heather Louise realized the first-aid kit was not there. Muttering rude words under her breath, she hurried to pick everything up and went back to the spare room.

Harry was curled up, the covers twisted around him, sobbing quietly into the pillow. She started forward, but stopped herself: Dumbledore was there beside him, gently caressing Harry's face, speaking to him softly so Heather Louise couldn't hear. Harry was becoming quieter, more relaxed; Dumbledore seemed to be handling the situation alright on his own. However, concern and plain curiosity held her back, so she hovered in the doorway, watching the scene.

It was really quite touching, Heather Louise thought, watching the old man and the young boy. The latter had stopped crying and become still, but for some reason Dumbledore hadn't stopped holding him. Heather Louise had a shrewd suspicion that he didn't want to. He was looking down at the boy with a mixture of emotions on his face – pain, guilt… love. He moved his hand to Harry's, and suddenly let out an exclamation, making Heather Louise jump and Harry stir.

"What's wrong?"

There was a dark red stain on the sheets.

Dumbledore ripped back the covers. Harry's right hand was close against his t-shirt. Deep cuts adorned the skin, weeping blood. Dumbledore looked sick. Heather Louise moved closer, and her heart turned to ice when she saw what the wound spelled.

"Harry," Dumbledore said shakily, "Harry, wake up!"

Harry murmured and turned his head, a frown appearing on his face.

"Harry, you need to wake up. Come on,"

Dumbledore shook Harry gently. Heather Louise didn't know whether to call for an ambulance or try and help.

"I didn' doi," Harry said to his pillow.

"Harry. Wake up."

* * *

_He was being tried in front of the Wizengamot. The faceless judge was accusing him of murdering Sirius Black._

"_No!" Harry said, though no-one was listening to him._

_The court broke into muttering. The words "saving-people-thing" rang in the room. People stared at him; people he knew. Ron and Hermione were there; they shook their heads at him, saying, "Sorry Harry, it's for your own good." Rita Skeeter was sitting in a corner, scribbling down the trial. Umbridge was smirking. Sirius was there. As Harry turned to greet him, he shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, Harry…"_

"_I didn't!" Harry cried. "I didn't kill you, it was Bellatrix! Why won't you help me?"_

"_You're own your own, Harry."_

"_I didn't do it," Harry whispered._

_He turned to the last member of the jury._

"_Professor Dumbledore," he said, his voice shaking, "please help me…"_

_The headmaster surveyed him with his blue eyes._

"Harry… Harry, wake up."

"_What could I do, Harry? The prophecy sets you apart. You need to walk life on your own. I cannot help you."_

"_But you can! You did last year…"_

"Harry, you need to wake up. Come on,"

_Dumbledore merely smiled and turned his back on Harry._

_The judge pointed. Harry turned. Where his chair had been there was now an archway with a flickering veil._

"_Go on."_

"_I DIDN'T DO IT!"_

"Harry. Wake up."

_Before Harry could do anything, someone pushed him from behind. He fell through the archway, darkness pressing in on all sides…_

"Harry!"

He opened his eyes blearily.

It was still dark – he hadn't been asleep long. He could hear muttering in the room. He raised his left hand and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

There was a click, and light suddenly blared in front of his eyes.

"Sorry! I always forget to turn it down first."

The speaker was Heather Louise. Harry, who could see only coloured lights for a few minutes, mumbled, "What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same thing," replied a familiar voice.

"P-Professor Dumbledore?" Harry stammered. "Is that you?"

"I was last time I looked," the headmaster chuckled before turning serious again. "Now Harry, may I ask you about this?"

He held up Harry's hand. The words Umbridge had forced him to engrave in his skin were gleaming with blood. Harry gasped.

"You don't know how this happened?"

"N-no," Harry said. "Only that I've always been asleep when -"

"_Always been asleep?_ You mean this has happened _before?_"

"Um, yes sir."

For a moment Dumbledore looked as if he might blow up. Heather Louise actually took a step backwards.

"And," he carried on, after having regained himself, "you never thought to inform someone?"

_I'm really in for it now._ Harry shook his head and waited for the explosion.

It never came.

"Miss Thrapp," the headmaster said in a voice of forced calm, "did you find that first aid kit?"

_Oops._

"Er, no. I'll try again." Heather Louise left the room.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

Dumbledore shut the door and took out his wand.

"I'm not angry, Harry."

He took Harry's bleeding hand in his and gently pulled off the bloody handkerchief. Harry winced.

"Um, sir, it's not how it looks… those appeared just like the lines."

Dumbledore looked at him intensely. "When?"

"Um… last night, I think."

Dumbledore began to mutter incantations. It didn't have an effect, and this seemed to unnerve him.

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Will you have to modify her memories?"

Dumbledore paused, apparently thinking hard. At last he said, "I hope not Harry, but sometimes it is unavoidable. I think we're just going to have to hope she doesn't notice anything else. If not, we might be able to get away with it."

Harry nodded, not convinced.

They could hear Heather Louise rummaging about in the bathroom next door. Dumbledore looked more and more worried as spell after spell didn't work on the wounds. In the end he put his wand away, muttering what Harry strongly suspected were rude words under his breath.

"Professor?" Harry asked. "Why won't it work?"

Dumbledore visibly bit his lip. For a moment he hesitated before replying, "I have a hunch… but I sincerely hope I'm wrong."

That didn't tell Harry much, but he didn't have a chance to ask anything else – Heather Louise re-entered the room with a box.

"Sorry it took so long," she panted. "That'll teach me to pile things up…"

Her hands trembled as she found a clean bandage and lotions in the box. "It's not much…"

"It will suffice." Dumbledore took the items and turned back to Harry's hand. The cut had stopped bleeding now, but the wound was still raw. Heather Louise left the room again.

"Harry, this will probably sting."

It did. Harry gritted his teeth – after all, it was no worse than anything he'd had to endure under Madam Pomfrey, and a lot better than most of them.

Despite the sting, Harry felt much calmer. Dumbledore's touch was gentle and somehow soothing. Harry leaned back against the bedroom wall, watching him.

_We have a lot of things that need to be discussed._

Harry knew it would be about the prophecy. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it right now; which was strange, because the last few nights when he'd been lying awake, he'd been wishing there was someone he _could_ talk to. He hadn't talked to Ron or Hermione since he'd got off the Hogwarts Express. He was lonely, and miserable. Harry caught Dumbledore's eye – he at least knew something of what he was going through. Harry thought of the continuous apology inside the letter back at Privet Drive. He didn't know what to think. Dumbledore had practically abandoned him – three times! This made him think of his dream. _At least the real-life Dumbledore tried, and had good intentions_, the forgiving side of Harry argued. _That's got to count for something_. Harry shuddered, remembering the way dream Dumbledore had turned his back on him.

"Um, Professor?"

"Harry?"

"About the other day…"

"Forgotten."

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it again. Dumbledore finished Harry's hand and turned to the other. Harry winced slightly as his elbow twinged.

"Does that hurt?"

"Ouch – yeah. I fell on it three days ago."

Dumbledore shot him a look of exasperation, and pulled out his wand again.

Bad timing. Heather Louise re-entered just as Dumbledore murmured the spell. Harry heard her gasp as his pain disappeared.

"What just happened?"

"Er…" Harry looked desperately at his headmaster for help, but Dumbledore looked resigned. He cast Harry a _Sorry but it's inevitable now_ look and pointed his wand towards her.

Heather Louise, however, had other ideas. Seeing the movement, her eyes narrowed and she almost snarled, "If you're thinking of Obliviating my memories then you've got another think coming, Mr Dumbledore."

**TBC…**

**A/N: See, I told you she was more than she appeared. Anyway… Muggle? Witch? Squib? Find out next chappy!**

**I've started getting reviews (yippee!) so I'm going to start review responses, seeing how much I appreciate them.**

**Coming soon - Chapter Five: Ghosts of the Past**

**Review Responses:**

**Scandalous Scandinavian:** Thanks for letting me know about the Euro switch – my history is appalling! Now I don't have to dodge around mentioning the currency in my fic. I don't get why currency keeps changing, do you? It's a pain.

**MerlinHalliwell:** See my answer to Scandalous Scandinavian. I like the name. You're not a Charmed fan by any chance, are you?

**daniellleharold:** You said you can't wait to read more. I have to admit, I'm intrigued to see how this fic plays out. I know what's going to happen when, but it all seems so different when it's written out in full. Thanks for the review!

**Rosaleen: **Yes, I am continuing. I'd continue if I got zero reviews – which I haven't, so that's okay! I love writing this fic, I'm not stopping any time soon. Good news is, I've even got a sequel planned, so I'll be around a while!

**Thank you everyone for reviewing!  
****Alexannah xXx**

**_Note about reviewing:_**_ Please, for the love of Merlin, **do not** review simply to tell me to **update**! I get it all the time and am sick of it. **If **you review, **please** say what it is you did or didn't like, and bulk out your review as much as possible. Make it worth the review alert, please! As always I love guesses where the story is headed and what I'm going to do next, and helpful suggestions are always welcomed. Don't flame.  
Thanks. _


	5. Ghosts of the Past

**Emeralds and Green Light**

**Chapter Five – Ghosts of the Past**

By Alexannah

_The train is leaving…  
__And I am gonna miss you so  
__No point in grieving…  
__It's time to let it go  
__**- Kym Marsh**_

"How…?" began Harry weakly.

Heather Louise waved a parchment envelope. Dumbledore took it and looked at the name on the front.

"I thought so," he said cheerfully. "You're a witch, Miss Thrapp?"

"Well, I must have been once," she muttered, sitting down on the bed. Harry pushed himself upright to see her face properly.

"You can't have just been one _once_," he said. "Either you're one or you're not."

She smiled at the bluntness in his words.

"Well, in that case I am."

Harry stared at her. _Even when I try to escape magic, I run straight into it. How do I do it?_

"I don't understand," he frowned.

"Actually, neither do I," Dumbledore admitted.

Heather Louise smiled sadly. "I got that letter from Hogwarts years ago, but I turned it down."

"Ah."

Harry was stunned. "Why on earth did you do that? Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to me!"

"Harry, I… told you about my parents. Remember?"

Dumbledore looked up sharply, listening closely. Harry nodded.

"I was only six when they died. The circumstances – well, it was obviously magic. The doors were still locked from the inside, there were no marks or anything on their bodies… it had the police baffled. I allowed myself to be adopted, and I shut myself away from the magical world. I was scared."

Heather Louise looked away. Harry was suddenly speechless. He felt a rush of sympathy for her.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the two looked back at him.

"I notice you're using past tense, Miss Thrapp."

She smiled. "Yes. I'm not really scared now. I regretted my decision every day."

An idea forming in his head, Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Isn't there some kind of adult education for when situations like this happen?" he asked eagerly.

"If you mean is there a place like Hogwarts, no. But I know some people have taken on adult apprenticeships before, for people who didn't go to a magic school. I don't suppose you'd be interested, Miss Thrapp?"

Heather Louise's mouth was hanging open. She looked from Dumbledore to Harry, as if trying to discern whether it was some kind of joke. They looked back innocently. After several long minutes of silence, she wordlessly nodded.

Harry grinned. "That's great! You won't regret it this time, Heather Louise." He started to babble about the different classes, but Dumbledore put a hand on his arm.

"Harry, it's late, and you need to sleep. We can talk in the morning." Harry didn't miss the look he sent Heather Louise that said clearly, "We'll talk once he's asleep."

"I'm not tir-" Harry began, put was cut off by a yawn he tried (and failed) to stifle. Dumbledore and Heather Louise exchanged amused looks.

"Sleep," she said firmly. "I'm not letting you go till you're well. Do you want a drink or something first?"

"Yes please," Harry said, ignoring the faint confusion that passed over Dumbledore's face.

"Hot chocolate?" she suggested. Harry nodded eagerly. Heather Louise made to leave, but Dumbledore flicked his wand and three mugs appeared out of thin air. Heather Louise's mouth dropped open again, and stayed open until Dumbledore wordlessly passed her her own mug.

"Cheers," Harry said. The other two smiled and Dumbledore stood up.

"Miss Thrapp, you don't mind me staying -"

Heather Louise cut him off. "You're both staying here until Harry's better. Um, I've only the one spare room; I hope you don't mind -" She broke off as a second bed appeared next to Harry's. After a couple of seconds, she shook herself and said, "Well, that sorts out sleeping arrangements. I take it you have everything you need, Mr Dumbledore?"

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled. "Then I'll see you in the morning. Harry, make sure you go to sleep soon."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Heather Louise chuckled and left. Harry stared blankly at the door, giving his headmaster privacy so he could change. He sipped his cocoa (which, unsurprisingly, was delicious) and pondered what would happen now. If Heather Louise took up an apprenticeship in the wizarding world, he'd be able to see her again, and she wouldn't need a Memory Charm. For the first time that summer, Harry was happy.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. Heather Louise opened the door.

"Sorry, but I forgot to mention the light in the bathroom doesn't work anymore. The bulb blew this morning and I haven't had a chance to change it yet."

"Thank you, Miss Thrapp. We'll remember."

Heather Louise started to leave, but did a slight double-take in the doorway. Harry distinctly saw a muffled grin as she hurried out. Wondering what on earth that was about, Harry followed her line of gaze, and began to choke on his cocoa. Dumbledore offered him a bang on the back and Harry forced himself to hide his grin. After firmly instructing him to sleep, Dumbledore moved over to the other bed and Harry rolled over, muffling his chuckling in the pillow. The last thought that crossed his mind before he fell asleep, was _Wait till the school finds out the headmaster wears Spongebob Squarepants pyjamas…

* * *

_

Harry woke up once during the night. As he lay quietly, trying to fall asleep again, he thought he heard…

Lifting his head and staring through the darkness, he saw the faint outline of Dumbledore on the other bed. The headmaster appeared to be not-so-peacefully sleeping; his form was trembling slightly and his breath was coming in rough gasps. Harry knew a nightmare when he saw one.

He was debating whether to get out of bed and wake Dumbledore up, but no sooner had he decided to he saw it had passed; the man rolled over and continued sleeping soundly. Harry drifted off to sleep not long after, and by morning he had forgotten the whole episode.

* * *

When Harry came downstairs, he stopped, and rubbed his eyes. When he realized what he was seeing was real, he grinned and sat down. 

Dumbledore appeared to be having a heated discussion over Heather Louise's phone. Harry nibbled at his toast for a few minutes before his name caught his attention.

"…won't let Harry stay at Hogwarts." Harry froze. "Remus, I've been trying, but you know the rules; they absolutely will not allow it." Dumbledore looked uncharacteristically flustered and kept glancing over at Harry. When he realized Harry was listening, his expression grew even more anxious and he turned away, biting his lip nervously.

"Remus, just please hurry up with those wards, all right?"

Harry dropped his eyes and tried to concentrate on his toast, but he couldn't stop himself listening intently to the conversation.

"Well, what about Grimmauld Place? How far have they -"

It was about him, after all.

"Those damn Ministry procedures. Now we're in a right mess."

A bit of toast went down the wrong way. Harry coughed.

"Looks like we're back to square one. Remus, for goodness' sake, get them to hurry up." Dumbledore replaced the phone and looked at Harry.

"I'm going back to Privet Drive?" Harry blurted out.

"I don't know yet, Harry. It's a question of where else there is…" Dumbledore pulled out a sheaf of parchment and what looked like a Self-Inking Quill from the insides of his robes, and began scribbling notes. Harry abandoned his toast and stood up to watch.

"…Grimmauld Place is out of the question. Ministry procedure, until the will is found and they've checked the place over for Dark material."

Harry wasn't sure if Dumbledore was speaking to him, or to himself, but he stayed silent and listened.

"…The Burrow is still too dangerous. The Weasleys are all spilt up, staying with various relatives… the Order are working on putting up wards, but it's very complicated magic, and they don't seem to be doing too well."

Heather Louise entered the room, and Harry motioned her to be quiet. Dumbledore continued, unaware of her presence.

"That doesn't leave us with many options. As much as I've tried to change it, the Ministry still insists on the no-students-at-school-during-the-summer rule. I could make an exception in this case, were it not for the fact that the place is completely overrun with Ministry officials. That leaves us with…"

Dumbledore paused and observed the parchment. It was now covered in calculations Harry couldn't make head or tail of. Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, and Harry hardly dared breathe, should he interrupt his concentration.

"Under normal circumstances, Thoron Manor would be perfect, but the wards…"

Harry didn't have a clue what or where Thoron Manor was. He and Heather Louise stayed silent, watching Dumbledore run a finger carefully over the calculations, then:

"Damn."

Harry's heart sank as Dumbledore sank into a chair, rubbing his eyes.

"Professor?" he asked tentatively.

Dumbledore looked up.

"I'm going back to the Dursleys, aren't I?"

Heather Louise let out a little hiss that indicated disapproval. Dumbledore jumped, not having realized she was in the room.

"Why does Harry have to go somewhere he's not welcome?"

"Because there's nowhere else," Harry explained. Heather Louise frowned. "It's complicated…" he added. He turned back to Dumbledore, who was staring thoughtfully at the parchment.

"Professor, how come there are people from the Ministry at Hogwarts?" he asked curiously.

"They're setting up extra wards. For some strange reason, Fudge doesn't trust me to do it myself."

"He's still Minister?" Harry asked incredulously. "After last year?"

"I'm afraid so. Hopefully that won't last, but for now…" Dumbledore sighed. "He's admitted Voldemort's back -"

"And about time too."

"- but he's not prepared to admit he was wrong. He's still insisting he acted for the best, and he didn't want to cause a panic without proof."

"_Proof?_"

They had completely forgotten Heather Louise was in the room, so when she cleared her throat (in a manner not far away from Umbridge's little habit), they both jumped.

"As much as I hate to interrupt your little politics talk," she said sweetly, "don't we have some arrangements to make?"

Harry looked from Heather Louise to Dumbledore.

"Yes, Miss Thrapp, you're right; sorry. Harry, we can talk about this later." He gave him a look that clearly indicated he wasn't about to forget. Harry gave a tiny nod to show he'd got the message.

* * *

Harry's temperature was a bit lower but not yet back to normal. Heather Louise seemed to have filled Dumbledore in on the last few days; both adults were adamant that Harry stay in bed, which Harry thought was very unfair, and kept checking to make sure he was alright. It was amusing to start with, but Harry quickly found it annoying. However, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased at all the attention. 

Heather Louise and Dumbledore discussed apprenticeships. Whatever Heather Louise chose to study, it would be a good idea to take some unofficial background classes first, so she had a basic idea of what she was doing, and the best place for that seemed to be Hogwarts. Harry listened in interestedly – he'd never heard of any of this before, and he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had a greater understanding of the wizarding world.

By lunchtime, Heather Louise had decided to accompany them back to England when they left, and take up temporary residence with her mother until arrangements could officially be made. Harry was delighted.

At noon, she went downstairs to fix some lunch and there was silence for a moment before Dumbledore spoke.

"Harry, I know you're unhappy about going back to Privet Drive, but -"

Harry cut him off. "I know. There's nowhere else."

It came out rather more bitterly that he had intended and Dumbledore winced very slightly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, "I made a promise which I don't intend to break. You will not be alone."

Harry looked at him. "Who will be with me?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, hesitated, and replied slowly, "I… don't know yet. I'll owl the Order after lunch and sort something out."

Feeling slightly happier, Harry settled back as Heather Louise entered with a tray of sandwiches.

"You don't have to eat in here…" he began, but trailed off as Heather Louise and Dumbledore glanced at each other. They'd got used to his reluctance to let anyone do anything for him during the day and seemed to find it amusing, which greatly annoyed him.

As they ate, the conversation went back to the wizarding world. Heather Louise asked question after question, and Dumbledore let Harry answer most, occasionally chipping in himself. They started off talking about the basic lessons at school and moved on to living with magic. When they'd pretty much finished the meal, the talk turned to the current situation.

"Just tell me if I'm being too nosy, but can you tell me what this 'situation' is? It sounds like something bad. Or don't I want to know?"

Harry and Dumbledore looked at each other, both hoping the other one would answer.

"Weeell," Harry said, when he lost the waiting match, "you probably don't want to hear it, but if you're joining the wizarding world you'd better know."

Dumbledore frowned. "Actually, that's something I hadn't considered. As you're inexperienced, it would be a good idea to arrange some sort of protection. If you've been brought up away from magic, it would make you a prime target from Death Eaters."

"From _what?_"

"In short, a bunch of loonies who have this unfortunate idea that anyone associated with Muggles is somehow lower class, and who act of that belief ruthlessly."

Heather Louise stared at Harry apprehensively.

"The good point," Harry carried on, "is that they're not as powerful as they think they are. Me and some of my friends were outnumbered two to one _and_ they had the element of surprise, and we _still_ beat them – sort of."

"We need to talk about that at some point, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry grimaced. Heather Louise looked impressed.

"You've faced them?"

"Twice – three times if you count Wormtail, I suppose." Thinking of Wormtail brought back memories of Sirius, and Harry forced the thoughts away. "It's becoming something like an annual event."

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore cut in, "the numbers are growing and the ones in Azkaban could break out any day, with the dementors gone. And Harry's currently a prime target."

Heather Louise raised an eyebrow at them.

"Risky business, being a wizard, then?"

"Tell me about it," Harry groaned. "If you're powerful you're a target because people want to be more powerful than you, and if you're not you're a target anyway for people like Lucius Malfoy who like Muggle-baiting."

Seeing Heather Louise's horrified expression, he added hastily, "It's not all bad, though."

"Hmm. I have to admit, I've always had a bit of a thing for danger. Don't worry, you haven't put me off."

Dumbledore groaned. "Oh no. Two of them."

Harry laughed and Heather Louise looked a little confused. Harry gestured at himself and she got the message.

"Do these… Death Eaters… only operate in England, or… ?"

Dumbledore answered. "Mostly Britain, but there are supporters worldwide. There's been some rumours of Death Eater activity near here, actually."

Harry blinked. "But then, aren't we vulnerable here? If Voldemort knew I was here, he'd send them after us."

"To my knowledge, he doesn't know you're here, Harry. He shouldn't find out, unless someone's seen you – is that possible?" he added, seeing Harry's scared face.

"Probably," Harry replied, thinking of his wander round the town. Why had he been so stupid? He should have realized Voldemort probably had supporters abroad!

"Where? Where have you been?" Dumbledore sounded panicky now.

"Besides here? Just round the town, really. I stayed away from everyone so I don't think I could have been spotted," Harry said, sounding more confidant than he felt.

Heather Louise had been silent up till that point, but now she spoke.

"What about those men back in the café? The ones you bumped into in the doorway."

"What men?" Dumbledore asked quickly.

Harry frowned. "Oh, them. I dunno, maybe. I didn't really get a good look at them. I caught the name of one of them, though – Covillaud or something…"

* * *

Heather Louise slammed the boot shut. "Ready." 

Dumbledore and Harry were already in the car. The latter looked ready to fall asleep any minute. Harry still had a fever and felt shaky, but when Dumbledore had heard one of France's top Voldemort supporters knew where he was there was no question: Harry had to leave the country, ready or not. Heather Louise was going to drive them, and they had to hope that Voldemort wouldn't suspect them of going home the Muggle way.

"Why can't we just take a Portkey?" Harry asked.

"Because the French Ministry would have our heads, because it can be too easily traced, and because we'd attract a lot of unwanted attention."

"Oh. Right."

Heather Louise climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"There's one thing I don't understand. Why are these guys after Harry?"

The almost-asleep boy spoke up.

"Their master's a psycho raving lunatic who wants to kill me."

"How nice."

"You get used to it. He's wanted me dead since before I was born."

"I don't know about you, but I find that slightly disturbing."

* * *

The journey passed in almost silence. Harry fell asleep pretty quickly, worn out from the last few days. His head came to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder, who sat still, trying not to disturb him. Heather Louise saw the scene in her rear-view mirror and smiled. 

The whole journey back, Albus was worried. Not so much about Death Eater attack – the likelihood was that Voldemort wouldn't attack anywhere public so soon after 'coming out'. The British Ministry had acknowledged his return, but the other European Ministries were still in doubt. No, Albus was thinking about the cuts that had formed on Harry.

He felt he had an idea of what it could be, and the moment he set foot in England he would contact Poppy Pomfrey and ask her what she thought.

He hoped it wasn't what he suspected. He hoped it with all his heart.

* * *

Once back in Britain, Dumbledore shook Harry awake gently so they could part. Heather Louise wanted to see her mother first and then get into contact about the arrangements for her apprenticeship. She let them have the car, and got a cab, giving them her mother's home details and taking Harry's. 

It wasn't till this short goodbye Harry remembered about the arrangements for himself.

"Professor?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Did you sort out who's going to stay with me?"

"I did. I hope you won't feel too bad about it, but I thought it would be best."

Dumbledore sounded a little nervous. Harry didn't know why, until he asked, "Who is it?"

The headmaster's answer kept him silent the rest of the journey.

* * *

The car pulled up outside number four (Harry wondered for the first time when Dumbledore had learnt to drive) and they both sat in silence for a few minutes after he turned off the engine. 

"Shall we?" he asked Harry quietly.

_Come on Harry, where's your Gryffindor courage?_ Harry nodded and opened the car door.

Dumbledore checked Heather Louise's things (minus her overnight bag, which she'd taken with her) were safe before taking out his own bag and locking the car.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"You don't have to do this."

Albus stared at the tired teenager standing before him in the middle of the road and stopped a sigh. How could he ever explain?

"I know I don't, Harry." The tone was gentle, but final, signalling that Dumbledore was going to anyway. Harry stared in silence for a moment, before nodding.

As they walked up the path, Harry thought of something. "Do the Dursleys know I'm coming back?"

"I sent them a letter before I left Britain. I wanted them to think you were coming back regardless of whether you were or not, in case something came up at the last minute." Albus didn't add that the letter had mostly contained sharp reprimands and rude threats (that was Minerva's contribution) about letting Harry run off in the first place.

Dumbledore pressed his finger on the doorbell. Harry's stomach went queasy at the thought of facing the Dursleys again. Hopefully with Dumbledore there Vernon wouldn't dare do anything. Harry shuddered as he heard footsteps come to the door.

When Vernon opened the door, he saw the boy and the freak on his doorstep. The first word out of his mouth was, "You!"

Harry (under Dumbledore's orders) ducked under his uncle's arm and ran, leaving Vernon with a wand in his face. Harry badly wanted to watch the inevitable argument, and hurried into his bedroom.

His things were right where he'd left them. He found it odd, but wasn't complaining – he'd been afraid the Dursleys might have snapped his wand. Avoiding the china shards, he crept over the landing to listen to what was happening in the hall.

"Mr Dursley, I am _this_ much away from cursing you into oblivion as it is; I suggest you do not make things more difficult for yourself."

"Ouch," Harry whispered.

Uncle Vernon was swelling with anger.

"ARE YOU THREATENING ME?" he bellowed. Harry couldn't suppress the thought that his Uncle wasn't very original in his accusations – he had said almost exactly the same thing to Moody.

"YES I AM!" Dumbledore roared in a voice quite unlike his usual calm manner. Harry was infinitely glad he wasn't Uncle Vernon at this moment. "And believe me Dursley; the only thing holding me back is the fact that I don't want to make things worse for Harry! But I suggest you watch your step, because my patience is thinning!"

The threat seemed to work. Harry slipped silently upstairs and made his way to his room. He cleared up the china shards from where the lamp had smashed, picked out some clean clothes and made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

Heather Louise instructed the driver to drop her off round the corner – she felt like she could do with a bit of fresh air. She paid the man, glad to be using English currency again, and set off on the familiar path to her mother's house. 

On the corner, she stopped short and gasped.

A police car was parked on the pavement. Tape bound the bungalow, which looked ruined – every window was smashed and the garden looked vandalised. The bricks were burned black, and above the roof a shape hung in mid-air – the same shape Heather Louise had seen over her home twenty years ago – a skull comprised of emerald-green stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

Her heart went cold and she burst into a run.

* * *

The Dursleys' house was far from a mansion, but it admittedly was rather comfortable, Vernon had always thought. However, even the Hogwarts prefect bathroom would seem cramped if you were confined to it all morning. 

_Those interfering, bloody useless freaks!_

All right, not useless. If those… people were useless, they wouldn't know how to lock the bathroom door from the outside when the catch was on Vernon's side of the door.

The bath rim was hard and cold, the tiled floor was harder and colder. Vernon was reduced to sitting on the toilet seat and staring round the room he now knew better than his own, wondering what to do.

He'd given up banging on the door hours ago. No-one took any notice, and all he'd succeeded in doing was making his throat hurt from the bellowing. It seemed the only way of escape was…

Through the window.

But if he escaped, then what? What would he tell people? Vernon Dursley prided himself on not being a coward, but he had no desire to be sent to a lunatic ward. He might even be arrested. Those freaks had a Ministry, too, and Muggles without magical family weren't supposed to know it existed. If he went blabbing –

Vernon sat up straight. That was it! The magical Ministry! They'd arrest the freak downstairs, free his family, and _the boy_ might even be taken away forever. Yes!

Before he'd begun to decide how exactly to get a message to a Ministry whose whereabouts to him were completely unknown, there was a sharp knock on the door, and the lock clicked open.

Vernon felt stupid. He could easily have stood behind the door and clunked the wizard on the head with the shower head if he'd thought about it – it happened in all the films Dudley was so fond of. If he'd been ready, he could've not only escaped, but freed Dudley and Petunia as well with no need to involve magic.

Except it wasn't the wizard that entered.

"Hi, Uncle Vernon," Harry said cheerfully.

Vernon caught a scent of something cooking, and his stomach growled unpleasantly. He roared and started towards Harry, but found a wand pointing in his face, almost poking his eye out.

"Don't try that one with me," he snarled. "You can't do magic outside that madhouse, and your headmaster is even downstairs. You can't talk your way out of this one, boy!"

"Try me," Harry shrugged. "The Ministry can't tell which wand a spell comes from, only its whereabouts. After the first five letters telling me off Dumbledore wrote to them and told them he was staying here, and the magic was him. They wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"And he'd back you up, would he?" sneered Vernon in a manner strongly resembling Malfoy – only he didn't think that, because the Dursleys never met Draco Malfoy.

"You might not have picked up on it, but even though Professor Dumbledore's a teacher, he dislikes bullies as much as I do. I think he's wanted an excuse to jinx you for ages."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep. Sorry, Uncle, but y_ou_ can't talk _your_ way out of _this_ one. Dumbledore's aware of everything that's gone on here, you know. In the last fifteen years, anyway. Ever had the sense you were being… watched?"

"Why you insolent little -"

Harry waggled the wand in front of his face and Vernon fell silent. But not for long.

"What are you going to do to me, eh? You're still underage; you can't possibly know everything older – freaks – know. You going to turn me into a goat, or are you still turning beetles into stones?"

"Firstly, it's matchsticks into needles, and I'm well above that stage. And that's just Transfiguration. Secondly, I'm best in the year at Defence against the Dark Arts, and that's the subject you learn the most curses on. Thirdly, you seem to be forgetting that Professor Dumbledore's still downstairs, and he's the best wizard in the world – even Voldemort's afraid of him, and that's saying something." The words _Do as I say, or my headmaster will kick your arse_ hung in the air.

Vernon realised he'd lost the argument and slumped against the wall.

"Lower that thing."

Harry lowered the wand so it was no longer in Vernon's face, but not so low his Uncle could escape.

"Actually, I came up here to tell you lunch is ready."

Vernon brightened. At least the boy and the freak weren't going to starve him – that was something to be thankful for. He sniffed the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

"What is it?"

"_We're_ having shepherd's pie and treacle tart."

The boy's favourites. How typical. However, Vernon wasn't complaining – he liked it, too.

Harry suddenly gave a mischievous grin. "But Dumbledore and I thought you might prefer these." He shoved a package at Vernon, and quickly left the room.

The package contained a pack of dry out-of-date low-calorie savoury crispbreads and two sticks of raw carrot.

Vernon could hear the sounds of laughter downstairs. He dropped his lunch and groaned into his hands as the doorbell rang.

* * *

Heather Louise looked around. The Dursleys' place looked much neater and tidier than hers could ever hope to be. She sipped the mug of tea Dumbledore had set down in front of her and tried to calm down. 

"Was the Dark Mark above it?" Harry asked quietly.

"The Dark Mark?"

"A skull with a serpent tongue?"

"Oh, that. Yes. Why, what is it?"

"The symbol of Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Dumbledore answered grimly. Heather Louise gasped.

"But why my mother? She's got – had nothing to do with magic!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "She adopted you, and for the Death Eaters, that's enough."

"Oh my God." Heather Louise placed the mug back on the table with trembling hands. Harry reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, Miss Thrapp. I'd better go and inform the Order." He placed a hand lightly on her other shoulder and left the room with a furrowed brow.

Heather Louise sat shaking for a few minutes in silence before asking, "What's the Order?"

"Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore set it up years ago. It's an anti-Voldemort movement, and a much better one than the Ministry have."

"Years? How long has this been going on?"

"Well, apparently the first war lasted for eleven years before Voldemort was 'defeated' the first time – that was when I was one. Then he got his body back two years ago. I was there, so I should know."

Heather Louise shuddered. "What have you got to do with him? Are you a member of the Order?"

"Huh. I wish. It's comprised of of-age wizards only. I know most people in it, though. We stayed at headquarters last summer…" Harry trailed off.

"We?"

"Me and my friends. It was safer than their home."

Heather Louise shook her head sadly. "I don't know how you wizards cope with this life."

"Honestly, not everyone lives like this. You've come across a pretty rare case. I'm the exception, cos I'm the one Voldemort wants dead more than anyone else."

"Why?"

Harry hesitated. "Can… can you keep a secret?"

She nodded, her eyes fearful.

"There was a prophecy made about me before I was born. It said I'd be the only one with the power to defeat Voldemort."

Heather Louise gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"I only found out last week," Harry said honestly, "and my friends don't know yet, so can you not tell anyone?"

"No. no, of course I won't. Is this why this Vol… this wizard's after you?"

"Uh-huh. He knows I'm the only one that can kill him, and he wants to kill _me_ before I can." Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. "He tried when I was one, and failed – that's how he lost his powers, and I got _this_." He gestured to his scar. "Then year before last one of his servants got him back with this potion with my blood in – er, it's a long story."

Heather Louise was staring with her mouth open.

Dumbledore came back into the room. "Miss Thrapp?"

She jerked out of her stupor and looked up at him. "Yes?"

"It's arranged. You can stay at Hogwarts until further notice. I'll escort you and leave you in my colleague's care. Is that all right?"

"Um, oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Dumbledore."

"You're welcome." Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Harry, do you want to come for the ride, or would you rather stay here?" His eyes twinkled, revealing he knew exactly what Harry's answer would be.

"I'm coming," Harry said, jumping up. "How are we getting there?"

"I think we'll pay Arabella a little visit – as I understand it, she has a connection to the Floo network in her fireplace."

Harry nodded. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of travelling by Floo – he remembered all too well what happened the last time he had used that powder.

Dumbledore transfigured his robes into Muggle clothes (Heather Louise stared) and the three left number four and walked quietly over to Mrs Figg's house. She welcomed them in graciously and let them use the Floo. Heather Louise was rather wary when Dumbledore explained gently how it worked. When they were talking Harry pulled Mrs Figg aside and thanked her amiably for helping him in his hearing last year.

"Don't mention it, dear boy."

Mrs Figg smiled at him – a much nicer one than the ones she used to show when he came round – and looked over to the fireplace, where Heather Louise had already vanished. Dumbledore offered him the flowerpot.

"The password to my office is 'Acid Pops'," he told him. Harry nodded and took a handful of Floo powder.

He stumbled out of the fireplace in the headmaster's office trailing soot everywhere. Heather Louise was looking around in mixed apprehension and interest. A third _whoosh_ signalled Dumbledore's entry.

Harry glanced around the office guiltily. It looked unusually bare without his animated contraptions. No doubt they were being fixed, or had even been thrown away.

"Where are we?" Heather Louise asked apprehensively.

"My office. I hope you don't mind waiting here while I get Minerva?"

"Oh – no," she answered. Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Harry before he said calmly, "Very well. I won't be long."

And with that he left the room. Harry looked around more carefully. Other than the absence of Dumbledore's machines, the office was pretty much as it was the last time he'd been in here. Only the huge stack of paperwork showed that any time had passed at all.

"Harry, what's that bird?" Heather Louise asked quietly.

He looked up in time to see a flurry of red and gold as the phoenix came to rest on his arm.

"Hello, Fawkes," he said softly, stroking the feathers. "Meet my friend, Heather Louise." Fawkes gave a soft trilling and inclined his beautiful head at her. Heather Louise laughed.

"He's lovely. What is he?"

"A phoenix. He belongs to Dumbledore." Harry carried Fawkes back over to his perch and looked over at the portraits. The occupants all appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Heather Louise, seeing where his eyes were trained, gave a soft "_Oh_," as she noticed the pictures were moving.

"Previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts," Harry said to her unanswered question. "That one's Armando Dippet – he was Dumbledore's forerunner, I think – and that's Phineas Nigellus. I don't know any of the others, though. And you want to be careful – often they only pretend to be asleep."

Heather Louise raised her eyebrows. "Personal experience?"

"Mm." Harry cast around for a change of subject, and his eyes landed on the Sorting Hat.

"I bet you can't guess what _that_ is." Heather Louise looked over to where he was pointing.

"Er… a hat?"

"Guess again."

Heather Louise gave him a funny look, before replying, "I give up. What is it?"

Harry pouted. "You're no fun. I was hoping you'd spend ages trying to work it out… it's the Sorting Hat."

"And what's that when it's at home?"

"It Sorts."

"I think I got that part. Sorts what?"

"People. Students, to be precise. There's four Houses, and it decides which one you go it."

"Which one are you in?"

"Gryffindor. So are most of my friends. Dumbledore was one, too as well, I think."

"What are the others?"

"Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and spare-me Slytherin." Harry grimaced. "I guess Slytherins aren't all bad, but the only ones I've had close contact with have been. The House has a horrible reputation. Voldemort was one when he was here, and I think most of the Death Eaters were too – Wormtail excepted."

"What's-his-name came here?" Heather Louise asked, startled.

"His name used to be Tom Riddle and yes, he went here, fifty-something years ago. He was prefect, Head Boy, and all the teachers liked him – well, except Dumbledore, who saw right through him. He has a way of doing that."

"I realized," Heather Louise said thoughtfully. "So, how does the Hat Sort?"

"Well, it can – you'd call it mind-reading, but wizards don't generally call it that. Legilimency. Actually, I'm not sure if that's what the Hat does, but that's what it's called when wizards do it. At the Sorting, each first-year tries on the Hat and it looks in your head and tells everyone where it thinks you belong. It had a lot of trouble with me. Actually, the Hat wanted to put _me_ in Slytherin."

Heather Louise raised her eyebrows again. "You refused?"

"Too right. You know they say your reputation precedes you. I'd already heard about it, and told it I didn't want to go in Slytherin, so it put me in Gryffindor instead."

"How does it actually know which House to put you in?"

"Well, I think it compares you to the Founders. There were four; the Houses are named after them. Gryffindor was supposed to be brave, Hufflepuff was supposed to be loyal, Ravenclaw clever and Slytherin ambitious. That's what's in the Hat's songs every year, anyway. Slytherin was also very prejudiced towards Muggleborns as well, but that's another story."

Heather Louise looked around more interestedly. "Have you been in here a lot, Harry?" she asked curiously. "You seem to know where everything is."

Harry flushed slightly. "Er… twice in my second year, once in my third, a couple of times in my fourth, and… twice last year, I think. I didn't come in here in my first year, because I was in the Hospital Wing when we had our annual explanation-after-Harry's-run-off-on-a-dangerous-mission-and-nearly-killed-himself talk."

Heather Louise stared. Harry shrugged. "I just attract a lot of trouble. What do you expect with the most powerful Dark Wizard on earth after you?"

"I thought you said he didn't come back till your fourth year."

"He didn't, but that doesn't mean I didn't see him. First year he was possessing one of our teachers, and second year he used this magic diary to make my friend's sister open the Chamber of Secrets. Third year I didn't actually see _him_, but… I met one of his followers. Wormtail. He was pretending to be Ron's rat for twelve years."

Before Harry had time to dwell on who else he met in his third year, he heard voices outside the door and Dumbledore entered, followed by Professor McGonagall.

"Hello, Professor."

"Hello, Mr Potter."

"Miss Thrapp," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "this is my trusted friend and colleague, Minerva McGonagall. Minerva, this is Heather Louise. I shall leave you two to get to know each other," he added, already sweeping back over to the fireplace.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you when you came, but I expected you to come out of a different fireplace."

"That's all right," Heather Louise said.

"Harry, we need to go," Dumbledore said quietly. Heather Louise ruffled Harry's hair as he stepped back towards the fireplace.

"I'll write!" she promised before he threw the Floo powder into the flames.

* * *

When Harry arrived back in number four, a surprise greeted him. 

"Harry Potter, sir! Is so good to see you!"

"Dobby?" Harry gasped, disentangling himself from the arms flung round his waist. "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby is coming to protect Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore, sir. Nasty Kreacher is wanting revenge. Is saying he will escape. We is not letting him go, sir, but Dobby is wanting to stay in case."

"Oh – well – thanks, Dobby. That's kind of you." Harry looked around at Dumbledore, who looked as surprised as he did.

"Dobby, have you told Professor McGonagall you're here?"

Dobby cast his eyes down and shuffled his feet. "Dobby is asking if he can come, but Professor McGonagall is saying no. Professor McGonagall is being good witch, but Dobby is wanting to come." He looked up at Dumbledore with tears in his eyes. "Dobby is not wanting to disobey Professors, but Dobby is acting for good."

Harry was stunned.

Dumbledore looked slightly taken aback. "Dobby, if you want to stay, you can. But go back and tell Professor McGonagall you are here. Tell her I have given permission."

Dobby brightened like a light bulb being switched on. "Dobby is going now, sir! Professor Dumbledore is great wizard! Thank you!" and he Disapparated in a crack.

Harry and Dumbledore exchanged amused looks.

* * *

_The room was not one he'd ever seen before, but at the same time creepily familiar. It looked like the room in the Wizengamot, only it was pitch black and circular – no, more like spherical. The seats were all around every wall. Harry walked in, feeling the gravity keeping him on the floor._

_There were candles all around the place that glowed blue. Harry shivered. He could see several doorways, all with light shining from the other side. He started towards the nearest one, but someone grabbed his arm and pushed him into a seat._

_As soon as he sat, the room started revolving. The floor was moving upwards, so Harry was no longer upright – he had to clasp his chair handles to stop himself falling into the inky blackness._

_As the movement stopped, Harry hurried along between the chairs, making for the nearest doorway, but the further he ran, the farther away it got. A sense of panic overcame him as the room moved again._

_The chair handle slid from his grasp; he was falling, down… the lights from the doorways changed from soft gold to vivid green that stung his eyes… Harry clasped his hands over his face, so he wouldn't have to see that he couldn't see what was happening… he flailed out as he fell, but he was slowing; now he was drifting in nothingness. Harry opened his eyes warily, but all he could see was blackness._

"_Harry!"_

_Sirius?_

"_Harry!"_

"_Sirius, is that you?"_

"_Who did you think it was?"_

_Harry twisted around, trying to see – and finally he caught a glimpse of a soft yellow light ahead of him; from where Sirius' voice was coming from._

"_Come on Harry, come and get me!"_

_Harry tried to get to the light, but it was out of his reach. He tried swimming through the air, but as it wasn't water, his attempt was unsuccessful._

_The light began to fade._

"_Sirius!" Surely there had to be some way to get there… "SIRIUS!"_

_There was no reply. Harry lashed out, trying to get anything, trying to get out…_

"Harry!"

He gasped. As the nightmare faded, he realized he was in bed at the Dursleys'. Dumbledore was by the bed with his hands firmly grasping his shoulders. Harry was still shaking, and he realized he was covered in a sheet of cold sweat.

"Are you all right?"

Harry hesitated, waiting for his breathing to go back to normal. "Yeah."

Dumbledore eyed him sceptically. "Go back to sleep. I'm staying in here tonight."

"You don't have to, sir…" Harry said weakly, but Dumbledore had already conjured a second bed like he had at Heather Louise's. Feeling it was pointless to argue, Harry sighed and rolled over. It was a long time before he could bring himself to shut his eyes.

* * *

Harry woke again in an uncomfortable position. He'd let out a small groan before remembering his headmaster being there. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Harry turned over again and tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes visions from his nightmare earlier washed over him and he snapped them open again, shaking. 

At one point, Harry actually fell at least partly asleep, but the nightmare came back in full measure – only this time, he thought he'd woken up when his Uncle Vernon came running in, shouting about silencing him. Harry woke crying out.

This time Dumbledore was awake beside him, but Harry was too shaken by the nightmare to let him come any closer. The headmaster tried several times to reach out to him, by Harry backed away, inexplicably afraid.

"Harry – what's this?" Harry remembered the second day of the summer, when Vernon had hit him round the middle with the pedal pump on Dudley's bike because Harry had fixed it wrongly when he'd been told to. Harry had mopped up the wounds where it had broken the skin in the bathroom and, as was his wont, not mentioned it to anybody.

But it seemed Dumbledore had seen the closed wounds where Harry had tossed enough to pull his shirt open. The old man's fingers reached out and pulled the neck of his shirt open more – Harry tried to shy away, but didn't in time. Dumbledore saw.

"Harry, what happened here?" he sounded aghast. Harry didn't know why – he'd suffered much worse injuries than this at Hogwarts; he shrank into the pillow, shaking his head, still too much under the nightmare's effect to say anything.

"Harry, _was this the Dursleys?_"

Harry looked into the old man's eyes. He meant to say it was an accident, but the words got lost. Instead he nodded.

Dumbledore looked slightly lost. He stood up, and Harry flinched instinctively.

"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you."

The voice was gentle. Harry tried hard to calm himself, but he couldn't get the vision of Vernon out of his head. Dumbledore asked him to take off his pyjama shirt and, after a moment's hesitation, Harry lowered his hands and undid the buttons, trying to stop his fingers from shaking.

Dumbledore let out a soft hiss when he saw the full damage. Harry sat trembling, unsure what to do. Dumbledore reached out a hand and softly ran a finger over the clotted cuts.

"Those are infected. I'll have to get some antibiotics before they can be healed."

He looked up into Harry's eyes. Harry watched him warily, waiting for the reprimand.

"Harry, why didn't you tell me about this?"

He trembled silently, guilt now filling him. Dumbledore sat down slowly and reached out a hand and placed it on Harry's cheek. Harry flinched again, but when he realized Dumbledore wasn't going to hurt him, he just sat still, trembling with cold and nerves while Dumbledore brushed away the tears Harry hadn't even realized had been on his face.

The still silence stretched between them. Dumbledore moved his hand away from Harry's cheek and placed them lightly on Harry's upper arms, who instinctively leaned forwards. Dumbledore took him in a gentle embrace, rubbing his back in slow, circular movements. Harry was stiff at first, but the strokes relaxed him and he leaned on Dumbledore fully.

Harry loosened up more and Dumbledore leaned back, laying them both down on Harry's bed together. He pulled the covers over them both and carried on stroking Harry, who was calming down more with each.

"Harry," he whispered, "what the Dursleys did was despicable and inexcusable. No-one deserves to be treated like that, least of all you. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

How did he know what Harry was thinking?

Harry had calmed down now, but was secretly relishing the comfort and didn't want it to end. He turned over and pressed his back against Dumbledore, who realized what he wanted and pulled him close, rubbing him gently on the unhurt part of his chest.

Part of Harry felt incredibly guilty for letting Dumbledore do all this. He knew inside Dumbledore shouldn't even be here with him; why he had offered to come was beyond Harry. Harry had spent too long alone with his bitter feelings; he was beginning to think the world was against him.

Almost as if he was reading Harry's mind, Dumbledore whispered again. "Harry, don't ever feel that you are in any way inferior, okay? There are people who love you."

Harry stayed silent, disbelieving.

"Ron and Hermione love you."

That he could possibly believe. Maybe.

"Remus loves you…"

That he couldn't believe. Lupin probably hated him for getting Sirius killed, and Harry couldn't blame him.

"…_I_ love you."

Harry almost snorted, but didn't. For some reason, this was what he wanted to believe more than the others.

"Really?"

But he couldn't bring himself to.

Harry felt a slight pressure on his back, and realized Dumbledore had kissed him gently. "Really."

Harry was drowsy now – he felt himself falling asleep in his headmaster's arms. As he drifted off, he knew how badly he wanted to believe Dumbledore's words – no-one had ever said they loved him before, not even Ron and Hermione.

So why now? And why Dumbledore?

* * *

Albus woke to an empty bed next morning. After a brief moment to wonder where he was, he pulled on his dressing-gown and headed downstairs. 

Harry was still in his pyjamas, cross-legged on the sofa. He was writing on a piece of parchment in his lap with his tongue between his teeth.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore in the doorway.

"Good morning to you too sir," he said with a tired grin.

"I mean it, Harry. What are you doing?"

Harry set down his quill and rubbed his eyes. "I'm writing to Ron and Hermione. They haven't heard from me since term ended."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "I'll leave you to it." Harry stared after him as he left the room, and turned back to his letter.

A few failed attempts later, Dumbledore poked his head around the door.

"Harry, do you want any breakfast?"

He opened his mouth to automatically say "No, thanks," but didn't. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't feel nauseated at the thought of food anymore.

"Yes, please."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. Do you think you could help me?"

Harry abandoned his letter and followed Dumbledore back into the kitchen.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Er, well," Dumbledore sounded uncharacteristically flustered, "I thought it would be best if we, um, kept magic to the minimum, so…"

"So we're doing this the Muggle way."

"Yes… only I never have. Cooked without magic, I mean. So, Harry…"

"You want me to teach you to cook?" Harry asked, cottoning on. Dumbledore nodded. Harry grinned.

"Okay, let's start with the basics. This is the kitchen; you use it for -"

"Harry."

"Alright, alright. This is the oven, this is the frying pan…"

As the 'lesson' continued, Harry discovered Dumbledore's talents were not limited to the wizarding world. He was a quick learner, and soon a full fried breakfast was filling the kitchen with delicious aromas. As the silence grew awkward, Dumbledore began humming to break the quiet and Harry, recognizing the tune, joined in, making them both laugh.

After breakfast Dumbledore assessed Harry's wounds in daylight and sent a letter to Madam Pomfrey asking her to send something for them; meanwhile Harry used some salve he'd come across in the medicine cabinet. The rest of the day he spent alternately studying and reading some of Dudley's old books, occasionally nibbling at a Chocolate Frog from the package of sweets Dumbledore had given him the first time he'd turned up at the Dursleys'. While he was studying Dumbledore took the time to complete some paperwork. They worked in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Mid-afternoon Dumbledore broke the quiet by asking Harry if he wanted to play chess. Harry was surprised, but pleased, and he collected his chess set from upstairs and set up the board – black for him, white for Dumbledore.

Naturally, Dumbledore won.

Dobby arrived shortly after and got started on dinner, despite Harry's assurances that he didn't have to.

The day passed relatively peacefully, although something had been nagging at both of them. The day before neither had had a lot of time to think about the cuts that had appeared magically on Harry. Both were concerned, and Dumbledore, unknown to Harry, had asked Madam Pomfrey to do some research in the letter he sent.

The next night was as bad as the first. Harry felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed at Dumbledore seeing him like this, but the potion wasn't doing anything for his nightmares. When he woke the second time in the night, Dumbledore stayed with him till he went back to sleep, just holding him. Harry had to admit the gesture was somewhat soothing.

* * *

When Harry woke he kept his eyes closed. He could feel an arm slung across his chest, and judging by the regular breathing coming from close to his ears, the person it belonged to was asleep. Harry moved carefully into a more comfortable position and blearily opened his eyes. 

He blinked, squeezed them shut, and opened them again.

_So it wasn't a dream._

Harry propped himself up on his pillow to see properly. The man next to him was half-kneeling on the floor with his head resting on the edge of Harry's bed, his arm lying protectively over him as though trying to shield him. From the obviously uncomfortable position, he hadn't expected to fall asleep.

Dumbledore stirred as Harry moved, and Harry froze, not wanting to disturb him. The headmaster mumbled in his sleep – something about goats?

Harry realised he was dying to use the bathroom, but when he carefully slipped out of bed he found the door locked – no doubt to keep out the Dursleys. At that moment Harry would have been willing to let all three family members stare at him crying after a nightmare if it meant being able to get across the landing – but right now he didn't have a lot of say in the matter.

"Professor?" Harry knelt on his bed; placing a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder he shook it gently. "Sir, wake up,"

"Mhmn."

"Sir, please wake up, I need you to open the door…"

Dumbledore, still half-asleep, said something which from anyone else would have sounded very rude, and turned over. Unfortunately, not being in bed properly meant there was an "OUCH!" as he slipped off the edge and bashed his head on the bedside table.

"I think I prefer the alarm clock," Dumbledore mumbled.

A muffled banging signalled that Uncle Vernon was awake and pounding on the door again.

"He doesn't give up, does he?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully.

_How DOES he do that?_

Harry suddenly remembered why he had been so eager to wake Dumbledore up in the first place.

"Erm… Professor…"

"Yes, Harry? Good morning, by the way."

"Doyouthinkyoucanopenthedoorpleasesir?" Harry asked in a rush.

It seemed to take Dumbledore a few seconds to realise what Harry had asked, then he noticed the expression on Harry's face and the way he was moving, and put two and two together –

"Oh, of course – I'm sorry Harry. _Alohomora_. After you."

Harry was closing the bathroom door before Dumbledore had even finished speaking. He heard him chuckling outside and a new pounding meaning Dudley was now demanding freedom. Maybe he should get Dumbledore to let them out – he knew how it felt to be locked up. He decided to ask… later.

It wasn't until Harry was pleasantly soaked in a hot bath when a knocking on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Dumbledore's concerned voice sounded from outside.

"Harry? Are you all right in there? What are you doing, having a bath?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Will you be long?"

Oops.

"Second door on the left in the hallway."

"Thank you, Harry."

* * *

The next day passed like the first to begin with. In the evening, half-way through a chess match (which Harry had nearly lost), an owl arrived for Dumbledore with an official-looking letter and a parcel. Harry cleared away the board and pieces while Dumbledore went into the kitchen with the post. 

After several minutes, he moved back into the living-room with the letter in his hand and the unopened parcel under his arm.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. Dumbledore sat back down opposite him, laying the package gently on the table.

"What is it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We'll get to that in a minute. We need to talk about this letter."

Harry looked at it curiously.

"It's from the solicitors'… they've found Sirius' will."

Harry suddenly felt like his throat was obstructed with a golf ball.

"It seems he has left everything to you, except various sums of money to Remus, Nymphadora and the Weasleys."

Harry gave a small smile. He loved the Weasleys more than he would admit. They deserved the money. He looked at Dumbledore, giving him a silent message to carry on.

"This means Grimmauld Place is now yours, so I'm asking your permission for the Order to continue using it as Headquarters?"

Harry hadn't even thought of this. "Oh – yes, you can have as long as you need it for. I don't want it."

A thought struck him. "What about Kreacher?"

"I was getting to that. Kreacher also belongs to you, but I'm assuming you don't want him either -"

"You assumed correct."

"I thought so. He's currently residing at Hogwarts – the other elves are keeping an eye on him."

Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "There are a couple of other things. You now own the contents of Gringotts vault seven hundred and eleven and three hundred and forty-four. The keys are currently in the solicitors' care, but I can pick them up for you when you want. Buckbeak has been residing with Hagrid while we vacated Grimmauld Place. I'm sure he would rather stay rather than go back to number twelve, but if you'd prefer -"

"No, Buckbeak can stay with Hagrid. I think they'd both like that."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's settled then – and that just leaves…" He reached over and picked up the package.

"This was found among Sirius' possessions. It seems your mother gave it to him for safekeeping shortly before he died. As far as I know, no-one ever read it." He inserted a finger into the wrapping and pulled it apart. A battered-looking book was inside, with a plain green cover.

"What is it?" Harry asked shakily.

"Your mother kept a diary, and she requested you have it when you're old enough. I think Sirius must have forgotten he had it, or he would have given it to you before now."

Harry took the parchment book with trembling hands. It was much worn, and a couple of sheets covered in lines of neat writing fell out. Harry leant over to pick them up. As he straightened, he caught Dumbledore looking at him carefully.

"Harry, do you want me to go?"

He looked down at the book in his hands.

"Yes please." It came out as barely a whisper. Dumbledore nodded to show he'd understood and left the room quietly, closing the door behind him. Harry heard his footfalls on the stairs.

Shakily, he opened the book, and flicked to the page with the bookmark. A line caught his eye.

_My Seer powers are growing, I can tell. I've been learning from bitter experience what can happen if you're not careful. I have Seen far more than I wanted…_

Harry hiccoughed softly, staring at the words on the page. His mother was a Seer?

_I can't tell James. He knows something is wrong; but really, how can I tell him about this? We've known from the start we can't hide from Voldemort forever, but if I tell him I've Seen we will fail, it will cut out the last of our hope. I can't do that. This family…_

He couldn't read any further; his vision had been blurred with tears. He laid down the journal and wiped his eyes fiercely.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore?" 

Dobby pulled on his sleeve. "Professor Dumbledore, Harry Potter is needing you."

"What did he say?" Albus got to his feet.

"He isn't saying sir, but Dobby is knowing. Harry Potter is needing comforting, sir."

Dobby led Albus down the stairs. They paused in the hall – Albus could hear sobbing coming from the living room.

"Dobby is going, sir," said the house-elf mournfully, before disappearing upstairs.

Albus hovered for a second, then decided.

"Harry?" he called softly. No answer. Albus turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The journal lay on the floor. Harry was kneeling in front of it, crying into his hands.

In two seconds Albus had crossed the room and knelt in front of Harry. Cautiously he reached out and peeled Harry's hands away from his face.

Harry's face was wet with tears. Albus gently wiped them with his sleeve. Harry instinctively tried to pull away, and nearly toppled over. Albus grasped him gently by the arms, and Harry laid his head on his shoulder, sobbing softly.

"Shh."

"She knew it was coming," Harry half-whispered, half-sobbed. Albus froze. "She knew what was going to happen."

Albus stayed still for a long time, letting Harry calm himself down. Finally, he said quietly, "Harry, when was the last time you cried?"

"Huh?" The question threw Harry completely.

"I mean," Dumbledore continued gently, "the last time you cried properly, not just a few tears."

"Er…" Harry cast his mind back. Before Hogwarts, definitely. The latest scenario he could think of was when he was nine, and it was after Marge's dog Ripper had chased Harry up a tree and the Dursleys had left him there for the night. Harry had been afraid of the dark, and even though he had not cried all the while he was outside, the moment he was in his cupboard he had sobbed quietly for a long time.

"Um… not for… a few…"

"Months?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

Harry grinned sheepishly, though it was a weak effort. "Years?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but all he managed to do was to give Harry a half-exasperated, half-sympathetic look. Harry wondered why he had asked. It seemed a bit of an odd question.

"Harry, you need to cry more."

Harry blinked in surprise.

"It's not good for you to bottle everything up all the time," Dumbledore said quietly, brushing away a stray tear from Harry's cheek.

"But…" Harry hesitated. How could he explain – that crying made him seem weak? That he was ashamed of the fact he did it at all? How would Dumbledore understand?

Little did Harry know that he didn't have to explain. Albus knew perfectly well what was going through his mind.

"Harry, crying is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone does it. You need to learn to use it as an outlet."

"I don't know about that. I might get teased a bit if I broke down in the middle of the Entrance Hall," Harry joked feebly.

"But we're not in the Entrance Hall now. It's just you and me and we've got all the time in the world."

Silence fell. Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but he didn't pull away. Whatever Dumbledore said, he still felt ashamed of it. The headmaster seemed to read his mind again; as Harry shifted slightly he said, "Is it a bit embarrassing crying in front of your teacher?"

"Um…" Harry rubbed his eyes, but the word "Yes!" hung unspoken in the air.

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "Harry, let me tell you a story.

A third-year at Hogwarts some years ago was in the middle of a rather bad week. He was naturally a rather shy student, although he wasn't bad in his schoolwork. He used to get teased for wearing glasses…"

"I know how that feels," Harry muttered.

"Yes. Anyway, he was having a rather rough time… his mother had been taken severely ill, and he was having trouble concentrating in lessons, and his classmates were being rather more… unpleasant than was strictly necessary. Then he found he'd lost his timetable and none of his class would tell him where he needed to go, and was discovered hiding in a corner of the fourth-floor corridor by his least favourite teacher. He was the Transfiguration professor, and I think I'm justified comparing him to Severus."

"_Snape?_ Poor kid!"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry. But you're right – it was not a nice experience. The Transfiguration teacher was all ready with the threats of detention, and I'm afraid to say he broke down."

"That must have been humiliating."

Dumbledore nodded, looking at the floor. Harry couldn't conceal the feeling that he ought to know who the boy in the story was.

"Did he get detention?"

"Fortunately not. Professor Healy realised he'd been a bit harsh after that. But that didn't make it any the less humiliating. Transfiguration was my worst subject then, and I always thought he had it in for me."

It took a second for Harry to realise what he'd said.

"Wait. Hold on – _you're_ the boy in the story?" Harry couldn't have thought of a less likely candidate.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Yes, I am. Professor Healy and I never got on. But he retired about six months after that little episode, and my next teacher was a great deal less… malevolent."

Harry frowned. "Transfiguration was your worst subject? I thought you were the Transfiguration teacher. That's what Tom Riddle said in the Chamber."

"It _was_ my worst subject, until Professor Healy left. I was pretty scared of him, which tainted my work. The teacher can make a big difference on grades."

"Tell me about it," Harry mumbled, thinking of Potions. Dumbledore, obviously realizing what he was referring to, couldn't suppress a small smile.

Silence fell. Harry thought about his OWLs. He was positive he hadn't got top marks in Potions, which meant he could probably kiss goodbye any hopes of getting into Advanced Potions, and therefore his Auror career. He'd probably failed Divination and Astronomy, thanks to Umbridge trying to sack Hagrid. He hoped he'd got an O in Defence. It was the subject he most wanted to do well in.

Thinking about Defence Against the Dark Arts made him think of his old mentor.

"How's Professor Lupin?" he asked Dumbledore, remembering it had been him on the other end of the phone conversation back at Heather Louise's.

Dumbledore sighed. "Better than I expected; he's distracting himself with Order work. I'm worried that he's overdoing it. I think the will upset him."

"Why?"

"Firstly, because Remus is not one to accept money easily. I believe he and Sirius argued about the contents when it was made."

"I know what that's like," Harry muttered, thinking of the Weasleys, especially Ron.

"And, I think because he knew Sirius too well, he was hoping to get around the law."

Harry blinked, confused. "What law?"

"The law that states werewolves aren't allowed to be guardians."

"I didn't know there was one like that…" Harry trailed off, realizing what Dumbledore was talking about.

"Sirius knew about the law, but I think Remus was hoping that, if Sirius stated it, the Ministry would allow him to have custody of you."

Harry frowned. "Did it not work, or did Sirius not do it?"

"Sirius didn't do it. I think he was afraid of who might get custody if the Ministry overruled Remus' claim, which was likely. If the stated guardian was 'unsuitable', the Ministry are perfectly well-placed to take up guardianship themselves."

"_What?_"

"Fortunately, Sirius knew the risks, so it hasn't come to that."

Harry's mind was whirling. The idea of being under the Ministry's thumb was too disturbing to think about.

"So… who _does_ have custody now?"

"Well," Dumbledore began, "in the Muggle world, the Dursleys are your legal guardians, which does interfere slightly with the wizarding law. However, if you desire – and I'm sure you do – we can transfer it so the Dursleys have no claim whatsoever."

Harry felt his heart soar. "Really? Does that mean I'll never have to come back here?"

"It does, as long as we can arrange an alternative accommodation – I do have a few ideas, but it depends what happens now – I have a feeling the Weasleys may be building a case to get custody themselves."

Harry frowned. "So, who has my guardianship at the moment?"

"I do."

Harry gave a soft hiccough of surprise. This wasn't what he had been expecting.

He also had a feeling Dumbledore had been dodging the question for the last few minutes.

"Sirius named you, or…?"

"Yes, he named me. I was surprised when he told me, actually. I was expecting him to name the Weasleys, but I don't think he felt he knew them well enough to do that."

Well, it explained why the will's details were owled to Dumbledore instead of him.

"So, you knew it was you before the will was found?"

"Not for sure. After I'd spoken with Sirius, he spoke with Remus about the subject, and I didn't know what he had decided to do in the end. I assumed he wouldn't have taken the risk though, and I was right."

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the whole situation. As much as he loved the Weasleys, he couldn't help feeling he'd be better off in a smaller family. He felt it was selfish, but he didn't want to be forgotten or left out, and the more people there were, the more likely it was. He'd expected Sirius to leave him in Lupin's care, but he hadn't. Harry was partly glad – after last year, he didn't think his relationship with his once-Professor would be the same. There were just too many scars.

But Dumbledore?

Still sore over the past months, Harry didn't know how he felt. A year ago, he would have been surprised, but relatively happy. Dumbledore had been more than a teacher to him – a close mentor, and Harry had even counted him as a friend. But now, he still felt partly betrayed by Dumbledore's actions of the last year.

Harry's conscience spoke up. _Dumbledore felt he was acting for the best at the time. He had your best interests at heart. And he said he was sorry. Besides, if you counted him as a friend, you should forgive him. That's what friends are supposed to do._

Maybe… just maybe he should give Dumbledore another chance.

Maybe if he did that, he would, in time, be able to forgive him.

Maybe the hole that Sirius had left behind could be filled.

While Harry was battling with himself inside, Dumbledore seemed to sense the conflicting emotions and chipped in. He knelt down so he and Harry were at eye-level with each other. Gently he took Harry's hand in his, and said quietly, "Harry, all I have ever wanted was for you to be happy. I've failed miserably – it seems all I can ever bring you is pain. Sirius shouldn't have left me your guardianship… I don't deserve it. If you don't want to give me a second chance, then I completely understand. All you have to do is say."

"Professor, I…" Harry didn't know what to say.

"Harry, I just wish I could be the father you need." He lifted his hand and briefly stroked Harry's cheek. Harry shifted nervously forwards a little, and Dumbledore reached out his arms. Harry leaned forwards and the headmaster pulled Harry into a fierce hug. Harry suddenly became aware of his tears flowing thick and fast down his face. Dumbledore lifted a hand and began to softly stroke his hair, murmuring, "I'm sorry Harry… I'm sorry for everything."

Harry realised he wasn't the only one leaking tears. He pulled away a little and saw Dumbledore's face was wet too. For some reason it unnerved him. He reached out a hand and carefully wiped the old wizard's cheek. "Shh. Don't cry, Professor."

Dumbledore let out a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob.

Neither of them said anything more, and silent tears leaked down their faces as the sun finally disappeared behind the trees.

* * *

When Dobby entered the living-room, he saw Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter fast asleep in each other's arms on the sofa. They looked so peaceful; Dobby didn't have the heart to disturb them. Instead, he conjured a warm blanket and laid it over them, making sure to tuck in the corners. He tiptoed to the door and turned off the light. 

"Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter," Dobby whispered, and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

Albus woke suddenly. It was still dark, and for a moment he wondered what had disturbed him. The next minute the mystery was explained as Harry shifted again. He had very sharp elbows. 

The memories of the conversation earlier came to him. He smiled as he realized the two of them were still on the sofa.

"Harry?" he said quietly, shaking him gently.

After a couple of minutes, Dumbledore surmised that Harry wasn't going to wake properly. He gathered the boy carefully in his arms and slowly made his way upstairs, laying Harry down on the bed. As he pulled away, Harry stirred and clutched Dumbledore's robes. After a moment's hesitation, the headmaster slipped in beside him.

"Professor?" Harry asked groggily.

"Go back to sleep, Harry."

"'Kay." Albus smiled as Harry rolled over. However, twenty minutes later Harry stirred again.

"Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Where are we?"

"Your bedroom."

"Oh. How did we get here?"

"I brought you up. You were asleep."

"Was I? Oh. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I fell asleep too."

"Oh." Harry quietened again for a few minutes, then said, "What's the time, Professor?"

"Late. And, Harry…"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to keep calling me Professor."

"Oh." Silence fell for a minute, then Harry said, "What can I call you then?"

"Well… if you're comfortable with it, I have no objections to Albus."

"Oh… okay." There was a pause before Harry said, "I take it I still have to call you 'Professor' round other people?"

"If it's a school-related situation, then I'd say yes. But socially, no."

"Okay." Harry thought for a moment. "Do the other Professors know you're my guardian now?"

"Some do. Minerva does. Er… Severus doesn't know yet."

Harry chuckled quietly. "I can't wait to see his reaction."

"Well, I most certainly can."

Harry stifled a yawn.

"Harry, did you post your letter to your friends?"

"Huh…? Oh, yes."

"I was just checking you hadn't forgotten. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight – er… Albus."

* * *

The rest of the night wasn't quite as peaceful. Harry half-woke from another nightmare, crying. Dumbledore took him into his arms to try and calm him. Harry rested his head on Albus' shoulder, still trembling and giving dry sobs. Dumbledore began to hum on instinct, rocking Harry gently, as one might rock a small child. Harry grew calmer, and Albus abandoned the humming and sang the words softly. 

"_Sleep tight now, little Angel_

_May God bless you_…"

It seemed to be working. Harry was still trembling, but he had stopped crying and just lay in Albus' arms with his eyes shut.

"…_sing a sweet lullaby_

_For the tears that you cried_,

_Kiss your fears away_…"

Harry mumbled something indistinctly. Dumbledore paused mid-note.

"Harry?"

"I said I've heard that before."

_Impossible…_

"Where?"

Harry yawned. "I dunno. But it's familiar."

Albus stayed silent, simply staring at the boy in his arms. Harry didn't seem to notice the lack of lullaby and drifted back to sleep. It was a long time before Albus finally eased him back into bed.

**TBC…**

**A/N:** This chapter was an absolute horror to write, which is why it took so long. But I have discovered a secret remedy for my writer's block, which you have to thank for the incredibly long chapter – eek! 28 Word pages!  
I was originally going to write my own lullaby for the sake of this fic, but my songwriting skills kinda went kaput so I 'borrowed' the lyrics from Kym Marsh's "Because of You". At some point I'll write out the whole lullaby as a separate songfic. BTW, anyone who hasn't heard it already, that album is really beautiful.  
Please check out "Changes"; I've got chapter two up now and chapter three is on its way.  
What do you think? Was this chapter worth the wait? (I tried to work a little more humour in here, but I'm not v. good at it. Let me know what you thought.) Tell me if you think I moved things too fast. If I'd cut the chapter into two it probably would have stretched it out a bit more, but I didn't want to do that.

**Review responses**

**Rosaleen**: It'll take a long time for Harry to forgive Dumbledore entirely, you'll see – but you're right about him caring.

**SailorHecate**: Oh, I love suspense. Glad you like it. I'm updating now!

**danielleharold**: First, thanx for reviewing so soon. See response to Rosaleen – Harry won't forgive and forget overnight, it'll take time, but Harry won't hold it too much to him either. He does kind of want to push everyone away, but deep down he wants attention. I sympathise with Harry too, but I'm not gong to be too mean to poor Albus… _yet_. Why can't he fix Harry's cuts? I can't tell you that! You'll have to wait and see!

**Tenshizujin**: Hey, I'm glad you love my story so far. Thanx for reviewing!

**Padawan Jan-AQ:** 1) Glad you liked the beginning 2) I'm still attempting to get a beta, hopefully once I do the writing might improve – and I won't tell you who stays with Harry, but it's not Snape – try again! He does appear in the story though – give me a link for Potions and Snitches, I don't think I know that site 3) Your reviews get longer and longer! I'm not complaining, though. I had a lot of trouble getting the mobile scene to work, but I'll see if I can make it clearer that it's Dumbledore speaking. I wasn't completely happy with the running-away scene either when I posted, but if it seems to work, I guess it's okay. That must be the scene I've changed most in the whole story. Heather Louise is an important character, but it doesn't focus on her too much – I'm sticking mostly to Harry, and Dumbledore. And those men… you'll have to wait see. Hehe. Btw, the green was because the stone is an emerald – it's naturally green. The purple is because of the magic. You'll learn more about it later. 4) Well, if you're reading this you either know what Heather Louise is now or you've skipped to the review responses. Harry will continue to be confused, so the scenes will be a little mixed-emotion. Thanks for reviewing… eek! Four times! Just a general thing: I l-o-v-e long reviews. Keep them coming!

**Arica, Princess of Rivendell:** What made you think I wouldn't? Hehe lol just kidding. Here's da next chapter, although you've probably read it already if you're here

**Jenn the Freak:** Okay, I think you live up to your name. Afraid you won't be able to sick your monster on me now (what's its name? Is it a he or a she?). Thanks for reviewing!

**Shadow-Hawk Opal:** 1) Aw, I'm glad you think it's sweet. I personally had in mind Dumbledore as more of a fatherly figure than grandfatherly, but maybe that's just me. It comes out more as the story goes on. I don't think the films do him justice either – the books are better. I was actually pretty annoyed when I saw GOF; I think the filmmakers took his character away, especially in the scene after Harry's name comes out of the goblet. I decided to do this fic because I read another post-OotP from Albus' POV, and it was really what made me realize how much there is to the character beyond what we see, in terms of his feelings for Harry. The only thing I didn't like about the story was that Albus did nothing about it (which honestly is probably more in character), so I decided to do one where he did, and that's what sparked off the creation of this story. Um, I don't know why I ended up writing all that, but I can't be bothered to delete it now. 2) Well, now you know – she IS a witch. Er, you will find out her parentage in a couple of chapters – I'm not promising anything, but keep the auburn hair in mind. You're the first person to suspect it is actually relevant (or at least the first to tell me). I'm the sort of person who phrases things carefully, so have a think… You'll find out in chapter 7!

_**Note about reviewing:** Please, for the love of Merlin, **do not** review simply to tell me to **update**! I get it all the time and am sick of it. **If **you review, **please** say what it is you did or didn't like, and bulk out your review as much as possible. Make it worth the review alert, please! As always I love guesses where the story is headed and what I'm going to do next, and helpful suggestions are always welcomed. Don't flame.  
Thanks. _


	6. Congratulations and Commiserations

**IMPORTANT Author's Note**

In light of some points expressed in some reviews I've received, I've decided to answer them here in a group in addition to the review responses, which are still at the bottom of the chapter.

-Heather Louise will NOT take over the story – she has been given a main part in chapters 3-5, because this is where she is being introduced. As the story continues, she will become a less major part until near the end, where she will play a major role – the reason she was brought into this fic in the first place. The story will circulate around Harry and Albus all the way through.

-In terms of timelines, the story will continue well into term, and I can guarantee it will go past Christmas – it will probably end somewhere after Easter. Twenty chapters minimum.

-The characters in this story are as follows: Main roles – Harry and Albus. Other major roles – Hermione, Ron, Aberforth Dumbledore (yes, I'm bringing him in!), Voldemort, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and Draco Malfoy, possibly some more Weasleys. Less major roles – Ginny, Heather Louise and other DA members. This list is in approximate order of importance/amount of appearance, and may change due to plot changes. It's also done from my own memory rather than being checked. But you get the idea. There will be some parts where Heather Louise will be a major part, there will be some parts where Draco will play a major part. It all changes. Heather Louise is NOT the main character of the story.

-Albus never had kids, so Heather Louise can't be his grand-daughter. She's only 26, so there's no way in heck she can be Harry's mother. I'm not saying any more on the subject.

-Lastly, I don't think I made it clear in the previous chapter that the Dursleys are all locked in separate rooms – Vernon's in the bathroom, Petunia in her bedroom and Dudley in his room. It's a necessary precaution. Can you imagine what Vernon would have tried to do to Albus if he wasn't locked up? Er, perhaps you don't want to think about that. Understandable. Having them shut away keeps them out of trouble. Don't worry, they're being fed – well, sort of. Look back at Vernon's scene.

Even if you didn't leave a review, it's advisable to read the responses made to other people, in case there's something you want to ask about that already has been asked. I won't give away major plot points (that's cheating!) but I do give little hints here and there.

* * *

**Chapter Six – Congratulations and Commiserations**

By Alexannah

_Nothing is so good it lasts eternally_

_Perfect situations must go wrong_

_But this has never yet prevented me_

_Wanting far too much for far too long_

_**- Chess**_

The days went by. Albus watched Harry closely as the time went past, without appearing to do so – he'd sensed that _too_ much attention put Harry on edge. He'd become adept at keeping a subtle eye on the boy over the years, but it was a more difficult feat to pull off when the two were shut in a four-bedroom house with only each other for company (the Dursleys didn't count, as they were only being let out their rooms to use the bathroom). Harry didn't seem to have noticed he was being watched however, and they carried on the routine that had been started when they returned from France – with one small difference.

After Harry had woken from a vision of Voldemort, Albus decided (despite Harry's protests) that he ought to take up Occlumency lessons again.

Harry had been so anxious about starting it again he'd been unable to sleep. But he needn't have worried – Albus was teaching him himself, and anyone was better than Snape. Especially as Albus didn't insist on 'Professor' or 'sir' every two seconds.

Or at all, come to that.

Albus started with asking Harry exactly what Snape had taught him before, and was both angry and guilty about the answer. Harry knew very little about different Occlumency methods, but he worked out from Albus' reaction that Snape had jumped directly to an advanced level. No wonder Harry had found it so difficult.

Once Harry had figured out the method he found best, he had no problems fine-tuning it. Albus was pleased with his progress and said Harry seemed to be a natural. Harry stored that information to think about the next time Snape criticized him.

Albus still hadn't got a reply from Madam Pomfrey, and was worried. He knew it would take a while for her to research the problem – it was hardly a common ailment, after all – but as each day passed he grew more anxious about it. The appearing wounds hadn't got any worse, but they weren't a lot less frequent than they were at the beginning of the summer. He could sense Harry was troubled about it as well, and was relieved that Harry hadn't yet asked him about them. He didn't want to express his concerns until he was sure either way.

Harry could tell something was worrying the headmaster, but knew better than to ask, instead wondering if it had anything to do with his nightmares. Albus seemed to suffer from them a fair amount – not as much as he did himself, but Harry had still been woken a couple of nights to hear him crying out in his sleep.

At one point he had offered him the Dreamless Sleep Potion, but Albus had refused politely. He'd said something about using them too much having unfortunate effects. He'd mentioned that before, which was why Harry wasn't using the potion every night either – only when it grew really bad.

Unfortunately, Harry discovered the potion was beginning to lose its effects on him. It was still sending him into a sleep, but not a dreamless one; one he couldn't wake naturally from, because once he'd taken the potion it kept him asleep or at least partly for hours. After several nights running, Harry had given up using it.

If he'd been aware of the fact that there were different types, he would have asked Albus to get a different one from Madam Pomfrey; but he hadn't, so he didn't.

A week before Harry's birthday, he decided to clear out all his old things from the cupboard under the stairs. He'd been meaning to do it ever since he'd moved into Dudley's second bedroom – he'd left a small collection of his childhood possessions there – not that he'd ever had many.

Albus offered to help, but there wasn't really much to do. An old tin with Harry's old 'treasures' and a small cardboard box held some old clothes and his teddy bear. Albus took a great interest in the bear (whose name was Monty), and was sad to see it was almost ruined. Harry told him about the time Dudley had got hold of him and practically ripped the bear apart in spite. Albus, who hadn't been aware of that particular incident, was aghast.

Harry decided to change the subject to a less dismal one, and explained how he'd come to own the bear in the first place (once when Mrs Figg was ill, Harry had gone with the Dursleys to the fair, and the woman on the coconut shy had given him a free go). Albus knew already, but listened anyway. As Harry opened the rusted biscuit tin, Albus sneaked Monty out of the pile. Harry didn't notice.

The reason Harry was clearing out all his things was because Albus had been dropping hints about being 'nearly' ready for them to leave Privet Drive – for good. That is, unless something else happened – these things had to be taken into account – but Harry was unusually optimistic about it, and hoped to never see number four again once they'd left. He'd have to remember to get Albus to let the Dursleys out first, though – although the idea of leaving them locked up was tempting, much as the idea of shutting Vernon in the cupboard (see how he liked it) had been – but Harry's good side had won, and he'd managed to talk a disappointed Albus out of it.

Harry wondered where he would be going. As much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn't bring himself to think that Albus would carry on looking after him once they'd left Privet Drive – after all, the reason he'd come was so Harry wouldn't be alone with the Dursleys. Wasn't it?

He doubted very much it would be the Burrow. From what he could gather, the Order had been having huge problems with the protection wards. That didn't leave many places. He hoped it wasn't Grimmauld Place – he'd never be able to set foot in that house again – he'd never be able to get rid of the memory of the trapped and restless Sirius inside it.

That only really left two options. Albus had said back in France that Hogwarts was overrun by Ministry officials. If they'd left by now, Harry figured it would be safe for him to stay there in secret, as long as he was able to hide from them if they ever came again – if Fudge knew Albus was deliberately breaking one of his own rules just so Harry could spend the summer there, they would both be in big trouble – not to mention it would attract Voldemort's attention.

Harry remembered Albus mentioning something about a Manor, and wondered what and where it was, and if that was where he was going if Hogwarts wasn't an option. Albus had mentioned something about wards, so he supposed it must be in the same shape as the Burrow. In other words, probably not.

He was curious to know what it was, though.

A tiny part of Harry was still sore about the events of last year, but it was shrinking with each day. He felt like it was slowly being erased by Albus' actions now. However, he could not suppress the thought that Albus was only acting out of guilt; that at some point – probably when they left Privet Drive – he would feel he had made it up to Harry and leave him alone again. Harry knew that would hurt far more than anything he had done already, and secretly wished Albus would hurry up and decide to get it over with – the longer he stayed for, the more Harry would know what he was missing, and the more it would hurt.

* * *

Once Harry was asleep (or probably asleep), Albus slipped out of the dark room to hold a conversation he'd been putting off for a while. 

"Petunia?" he said softly, knocking on the Dursleys' bedroom door (Vernon, naturally, was spending the night in the bathroom).

There was the sound of movement the other side of the door. Albus unlocked the door and Petunia glared out at him, in a pink dressing-gown.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"I wish to speak with you, if I may. Can we go downstairs?"

Petunia looked warily at Albus' wand, which he was keeping carefully in her sight.

"I suppose so."

Once they were in the living-room, Albus shut the door and cast a silencing charm around it. He decided to make the conversation quick, in case Harry needed him.

"Now, what's all this about, Headmaster?" Petunia asked a little warily.

"I believe I sent you a letter at the beginning of the holidays, Petunia."

She turned from white to red in a matter of seconds. "Yes, you did," she hissed through gritted teeth. "And?"

Albus braced himself.

"You did nothing of what I asked you. You didn't help Harry one bit. You even stood by while your husband abused him!"

"How dare you make such accusations!" Petunia snapped.

"I dare because I know they are true. I've seen the evidence myself."

"It was an accident!"

"Harry even told me it was true."

"That boy's a liar!"

Albus gripped his wand so tightly he was afraid of breaking it.

"For someone who's lived with Harry all his life, you are extraordinarily ignorant of him, Petunia. Harry wouldn't lie about this. It was all I could to get him to tell me in the first place. That's your fault."

"How is that my fault?"

"You raised him! You taught him he was somehow inferior to everyone else. That's what he's grown to believe. He never comes to anyone for help; he doesn't believe people when they say they care about him. You have no idea how much damage you have done, and I don't just mean physically." Albus paused for breath, and Petunia cut in.

"I never said any such things, and as for the damage -"

"Petunia, you should know by now that actions speak far louder than words. By not caring for Harry, you rejected him. Nothing can ever make up for that. Your actions were a crime, morally if not legally. I didn't realize until recently just how much damage you have done to him, and still I feel there is more.

"As for the physical abuse, I don't know how serious it is; whether what I've seen on Harry was a one-off or whether it's been happening all along. I have been keeping an eye on this household for fifteen years, but not close enough, apparently. The good news for you is that by the time our government has sorted itself out enough for us to take legal action, the proof will have gone. The emotional wounds Harry has suffered at your hand all his life, however, are unlikely to ever heal." Albus knew Vernon was mostly to blame, but Petunia was much more likely to listen and understand. "I am Harry's new guardian and I care for him as if he was my own. It is possible that, after this summer, there may be times when Harry will need to return here, and he knows this. If I EVER find out he has been mistreated by one of your family again in ANY way, Merlin himself will come back from the dead before anyone will be able to stop me taking legal action. I will take the case to the Muggle courts if necessary."

Petunia was stock still, her face impassive. Only her eyes showed how much his words were affecting her.

"I will not press charges on this occasion as Harry has been through enough, but I will be watching your family like a hawk. Even if I don't go to the courts, you can rest assured I will not stand by and do nothing if Harry suffers again.

Harry is a wonderful boy in so many ways. You should have counted yourselves privileged when I left him in your – I hesitate to use the word 'care', because you didn't care at all. If I could change one thing in my life, I would have taken him in myself; it would have been the best decision I had ever made, instead of the worst.

You and your husband were the luckiest couple on the planet when I gave Harry to you. But you threw it away, and in doing so ruined Harry's life far more than you can ever understand.

The mental damage he has suffered from living with you may turn out to be permanent. You never loved him; you made him believe he isn't worthy of love. He can't believe there are people out there who really care for him, because his own family never did.

If this damage is permanent, I suggest you prepare yourselves, because I will not let this go unsettled.

I hope one day you realize what you have done."

Albus finished his speech – he'd said a lot more than he'd originally intended. Petunia's face was blank, but her eyes showed her guilt.

"I shall let you think about what I have said. Goodnight, Petunia."

* * *

Albus slipped silently back into the bedroom. He saw the light on the landing glint on a pair of eyes. 

"Harry?"

Harry quickly pretended he was asleep – to no avail.

"I know you're awake, Harry, stop faking it." Albus' voice was firm but gentle. Harry opened his eyes again. Albus sat down on Harry's bed.

"Bad dreams?" he asked gently.

Harry shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "It's okay… it's not Voldemort or anything."

"Do you want the sleeping potion?"

"No!" Harry protested a bit more violently than he had intended. Albus looked taken aback. "No… thanks."

Albus frowned. "Hasn't it been working?"

"Spot on," Harry replied dully. The potion had still only been half-working – it sent him into a sleep, but the nightmares kept coming, and he couldn't wake from them. It was worse than going without the potion. He explained this to Albus, whose expression softened.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have got Madam Pomfrey to send a different one to try."

Harry looked up at the ceiling. Albus sighed. "Is there anything that _does_ help?"

Harry squirmed slightly, embarrassed. He _had_ noticed something – the nightmares ceased when he had company. He figured the subconscious knowledge made him feel more secure, which let him sleep more peacefully. The couple of nights he had spent close to Albus had been dream-free, looking back. But he wasn't about to ask.

Albus – Harry was shocked to discover the name was coming to him more naturally now – seemed to realize what the answer was though, and stood up. With a flick of his wand, the beds joined and he slid back in beside Harry, wrapping his arms around him.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked in a whisper, already knowing the answer. Harry didn't answer, but snuggled into the warm fatherly embrace. Albus smiled sadly. "Harry, don't ever be ashamed to ask for this." Harry nodded sleepily and closed his eyes.

* * *

_Two figures stood duelling heavily before his eyes. He struggled to free himself on the curse pinning him to the ground, but failed. Light flashed across the sky from the fight. There was a scream, and a muffled _flump_ of body hitting ground._

_His face was deathly pale, blood drying on his skin. His eyes were still open, but the light was gone. He reached out a tentative hand and felt the cold flesh –_

Albus gasped, suddenly awake. He lay shaking for a few minutes before remembering where he was. He sat bolt upright, unintentionally pulling the covers off Harry, who didn't make a sound. The nightmare still clear in his mind, Albus reached out a trembling hand, relief engulfing him when he felt Harry's breathing. Still shaken, Albus lay back down and gently wrapped his arms back around Harry, trying to get the image of his dead face out of his mind.

The rest of the night was more peaceful, but still not untroubled. Albus was used to nightmares and/or strange dreams, but they seemed to be coming more regularly now. He figured it was probably linked to his worry about Harry's well-being, likely mixed with his guilt over the fact that Harry was suffering because of him, at least indirectly. Although often his dreams didn't make much sense. That night he had one that puzzled him – it had been a recurring one a few years back, but had gradually stopped. It was a vision of a teenage boy – around Harry's age – with chocolate-brown hair and bright blue eyes. He knew what the dream had meant before, but he had no idea why it was coming back to him now, of all times.

When Albus woke for the fourth time that night, he borrowed some of Harry's Dreamless Sleep Potion, hoping that it would work on him and thankful that the next day was Harry's birthday, so at least he'd be distracted the next night.

* * *

"Happy birthday to you; happy birthday to you…" 

Harry groaned and tried to pull his covers over his head, but failed. Albus was kneeling on the end of the bed, making it impossible.

"Gerroff," he grumbled.

"Come on Harry, wake up! Do you remember what day it is today?"

"Let me guess. Christmas? How could I _not_ know with you singing in my ear?"

Albus chuckled and tugged the covers right off him. Harry moaned.

"Are you going to get up or am I going to have to drag you to the Burrow in your pyjamas?" he asked.

That got a reaction. "The Burrow?" Harry asked, his eyes snapping open. Suddenly he felt wide awake.

"By special invitation, the Weasleys have requested you spend today with them, courtesy of a few temporary wards. They'll fall down by tomorrow morning, however, so I'm afraid you cannot stay the night -"

"That's okay!" Harry was already out of bed and grabbing some clean clothes. His heart soared – he was going to the Burrow! He hadn't expected to see it all summer, so it was a terrific surprise.

"Good. I'll see you downstairs – don't be too long; I'm assuming you don't want your breakfast to get cold." Albus smiled at him and left the room, humming "Happy birthday".

* * *

In an hour, Harry was washed and dressed and had just finished his special birthday breakfast – a stack of chocolate-chip pancakes. He and Albus walked together over to Mrs Figg's house, where she wished him a happy birthday and offered him a flowerpot of Floo powder. 

He tumbled out of the fireplace in the Weasley's living-room, brushing off soot from his clothes. Looking around, he saw the whole place was pitch-black. He began to worry he'd arrived too early and they were still in bed before a second _whoosh_ indicated Albus' arrival and there was a split second pause before pandemonium broke out.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

Harry staggered backwards as the whole place lit up. The Burrow was transformed – streamers, coloured lights and banners were everywhere, and someone had let off a box of Fred and George's Wildfire Whizz-Bangs. The room had been rearranged and expanded to fit in not only all the Weasleys (minus Percy), but Hermione, Remus Lupin, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, Heather Louise, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, the Creevey brothers, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and, to his enormous surprise (or rather shock), Severus Snape.

His mouth fell open.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to leave your mouth hanging open like that?" Ginny teased, stepping forwards.

"How – who – what?"

"We wanted to give you a proper birthday party, Harry," Mrs Weasley said, hugging him tightly.

"You didn't have to -"

His voice almost cracked as he saw the table, which was piled high with what looked like the entire contents of Diagon Alley's largest store, all wrapped in gleaming paper. He didn't think even Dudley had ever had this many presents.

He felt a lump in his throat at the sight. They didn't have to do all this for him … but they were all looking so pleased that he didn't have the heart to ruin it.

"Harry, are you all right?" Mrs Weasley asked, drawing back and looking at him carefully.

"Yeah," he said, finding his voice. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Well, yeah. That's what surprise parties are meant to do. So, what are we gonna do first?" Ron enquired.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again.

* * *

It was as if every person in the Burrow had been transfigured into a nine-year-old for the day. Even the adults (except Snape, who said he preferred to watch) joined in, rushing around playing mad children's games. Hermione triumphed at Blind Man's Buff, and Albus surprised everyone by turning out to be a champion at Musical Chairs (played along to the Weird Sisters). Even Heather Louise managed to put aside her fresh grief for a day and join in, teaching them to play Spin the (Butterbeer) Bottle, during which Harry had a wicked idea to dare Ron to kiss Hermione in front of everyone. His face was redder than his hair, and she wasn't exactly cool about it either. 

They took a break for the adults to talk and the younger ones to calm down after the last game. Ron and Hermione interrogated Harry about his last letter, where he'd mentioned getting 'lost' in France. Harry told them the (slightly edited) story. They got very confused and knew parts didn't add up, but Harry was determined not to tell them the reason he'd left Privet Drive in such a hurry. When it became apparent they weren't going to get the blanks filled in, Ron changed the subject by asking Harry if it was true Dumbledore was staying at number four with him, and how did it come about. The ones who hadn't heard about the arrangement were surprised, to say the least. Harry muttered something vague about protection, which they seemed to buy. He wasn't about to go into the details of his sudden guardianship transferral now, in front of a crowd. Neville asked what it was like living with the headmaster, and Harry thought hard before responding.

"Not as awkward as I thought it would be," he replied honestly. "It was a bit, at first, but I think we've both got used to having the other one around now." He carefully avoided mentioning any of the little heart-to-hearts they'd had over the course of the time they'd spent there together. Those were private. He mentioned the chess, and the fact that Albus could cook better than his Aunt (now he knew how, but Harry didn't say that), and left it at that.

Harry had a suspicion that someone had gone around, telling everyone to make a big fuss of him this year, and he wished whoever it was (he had a strong suspicion who) hadn't. The evidence was in the huge stack of presents on the kitchen table.

Various members of the DA had clubbed together and bought him a watch like the clock on the Weasleys' wall, only the hands were all the DA members (Marietta Edgecombe seemed to be missing) and the places where the numbers should be were various points in battle. It wasn't the most uplifting of presents – where number twelve should be was 'Dead', but he knew it would come in useful in the future battle against the Death Eaters. Molly Weasley frowned as he thanked Neville and Luna (who had brought it with them), but said nothing.

The two present Professors had each chipped in their contribution – Flitwick gave Harry a box of squeaking sugar mice like the ones he had given him last year, and Professor McGonagall had brought him a book on turning into an Animagus. Harry was surprised and pleased at the gift – he'd been curious about Animagi ever since he'd learned his father was one. McGonagall accompanied the book with strict orders not to try anything without her or Albus present, and a card that included a letter informing him his Quidditch ban was lifted. Harry was delighted.

The next present was also from a Hogwarts Professor, and also a book. Harry, who hadn't expected Trelawney to even remember his birthday (giving that she seemed to think he was born in winter), let alone give him a present, could only have been more surprised if Snape had given him one.

Harry, who had expected a title like _1001 Ways to See Death Coming_ was pleasantly surprised when he found the book was on seeing people's auras. Hermione didn't say anything, but Harry could tell what she was thinking – however, after reading the back, he had to admit the book sounded interesting, which was more than he could say for Trelawney's classes. From Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, he received a smaller model of the animated dome of the galaxy he had coveted back in Diagon Alley, and from Sprout a Muggle Game Boy. It wouldn't be any use at Hogwarts, but it would be good for the holidays. If Harry hadn't been sure Albus had been in on the present-thing before, he certainly was now. He doubted any other students had received birthday presents from practically all their teachers.

It turned out Snape _had_ bought him a present after all. After getting over the shock, Harry figured _someone_ must have bribed/blackmailed/persuaded him to do it. He wasn't sure he wanted a present from someone who didn't want to give him anything, but when he saw what it was (it wasn't wrapped), he didn't have the heart to decline.

The grass snake curled around his wrist (Ron, who didn't like snakes any more than he liked spiders, backed off hurriedly) and hissed, "Hello."

"Hello," Harry hissed back, ignoring the strange look Dennis Creevey and Mr and Mrs Weasley (who hadn't heard him speak Parseltongue before) were giving him. Hermione whispered quickly into their ears and relief rushed across their faces.

"What'sss your name?"

"I'm Harry. What'sss yoursss?"

"I do not have one."

"Oh. Do you want me to give you one?"

"I would like that."

Harry considered. "What about Conan?"

"What doesss that mean?"

"It's Celtic; it means intelligent."

The snake's tongue flickered. "I like that name."

"Good. Conan it isss."

Conan draped himself round Harry's neck while he opened the rest of his presents. Hermione had bought him a jar of broom-handle polish (he'd mentioned his previous had run out) as well as a book (big surprise) on chess strategy. Harry fully planned to read it; he might be able to avoid to losing as badly to Ron and Albus.

Dobby had added a lumpy package of (naturally) socks, none of which matched. Harry got another penknife from Remus, as the one from Sirius had been ruined back at the Department of Mysteries. Heather Louise had bought him his own copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and he had a pair of protective goggles from Oliver. Angelina, Alicia and Katie had each chipped in to get Harry a miniature Quidditch board with moving figures – a tiny version of the real thing for rainy days.

The Weasleys had gone overboard. Fred and George showered Harry in samples of jokes that hadn't even made it to the shop yet, Ron had bought him his own Golden Snitch (which must have cost the earth, but Harry didn't make a scene), Ginny had thoughtfully picked out something that looked a little like a Remembrall, except the glass was crystallized and if he held it in his hand it gave off a relaxing aura. Dead useful for stressful study and bad days. Harry felt extremely grateful – not only would it probably help with his Occlumency, but it could come in useful on a bad night. Bill had bought a small collection of Ancient Egyptian artefacts he'd collected from various places. Everyone took an interest in that. Most of the items were powerfully magical, only part of their properties of which was suspected to be known. Mrs Weasley tutted at her son, saying it wasn't really a suitable thing to give a teenage boy, but Harry was pleased – he'd always had a curiosity about Egypt as a child, and it had only increased when Ron told him about their visit there.

Mrs Weasley had knitted another jumper ("But it's not Christmas yet!") and baked a large selection of home-made sweets. Charlie had given Harry a miniature dragon like the Horntail one Harry had pulled out of the silk bag back in the Triwizard Tournament, only this one was a Common Welsh Green. It didn't seem to get on very well with Harry's new snake.

Harry was really touched.

As he helped Mrs Weasley clear away all the wrappings, Harry realized that there was one person at the party who hadn't given him anything. Normally he wouldn't have been particularly disappointed, but now he felt hurt. Perhaps it was a sign that Albus had finally decided Harry had had enough.

Harry's birthday cake was huge, chocolate, layered with thick chocolate butter-icing with the words _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it and topped off with sixteen candles. Everyone sang "Happy birthday" (Fred and George added some alternate lyrics to get sternly told off by their mother) and everyone cried, "Make a wish, Harry!"

He thought hard, but it didn't take long to decide.

_I wish for a real family that loves me_, he thought, and blew out the candles.

* * *

The real surprise came when they arrived back at Privet Drive at nearly midnight. Albus, who had some paperwork to complete which he had been putting off, ordered Harry to bed, and he was glad to oblige. Leaving Albus downstairs, he made his way to his room and stopped short. Propped on his bed was something he hadn't expected. 

It was his old teddy bear.

Monty was unrecognisable. His fur was no longer threadbare, his ears had been carefully fixed back on, and he had brand new, button eyes. Rolled up in his paws was a note.

_Dear Harry,_

_You now know why I chose not to give you your present at your party earlier. I hope you like it – I had a lot of trouble getting the eyes right. I think he appreciated it._

_Albus_

Harry suddenly realised he had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away, staring at the old bear. He had to admit, the kind gesture had touched him.

* * *

Albus looked up at the dog-tired raven-haired boy who descended the stairs in surprise. "Harry? I thought I told you to go to – oh," he said, suddenly remembering the surprise he'd left. "Did you find him?" 

Harry grinned and held up the transformed bear. Albus smiled. "So? What do you think?"

"I -" Harry's words got lost and he couldn't think of any way to verbally express his gratitude. After an awkward moment of silence, he suddenly reached forward and hugged him. Albus froze, surprised. Harry noticed and began to draw away but Albus, realizing his mistake, wound his arms round Harry and clutched him tight.

Harry didn't want the moment to end, but he knew it would. After several minutes, Albus gently pulled away.

"Harry, you look dead on your feet. You should be in bed," he said quietly. Harry confirmed his statement by rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. Albus, noticing that Harry was unlikely to make it half-way up the stairs without falling asleep, lifted the boy up, who was so tired he didn't protest, just tucked his head in Albus' neck and went still. Abandoning all thought of completing the paperwork, Albus carried Harry swiftly upstairs and deposited him in the bed, which had stayed as a double. Deciding work could wait, he used magic to change them both into pyjamas, pulled out the chain around his neck that held the enchanted emerald twin to the one he'd given Harry, and placed it on the bedside table, before sliding in beside Harry, who was already asleep.

* * *

Harry woke up still in darkness. He wondered what had caused the abrupt return to consciousness, but not for long – he felt the bed trembling and turned his head to see Albus shaking in a nightmare. He was sobbing quietly into his pillow and quivering madly. Harry pushed the covers off himself and sat up, leaning towards the elder wizard. 

"Profes – Albus? Can you hear me?"

Albus moaned in his sleep. Harry couldn't make out the words – something like, "No, not again…"

"Albus!" Harry remembered how Albus would rub his back to calm him when he had a nightmare, and reached out and rubbed Albus' shoulder gently, whispering, "It's alright, Albus … just a dream …"

_Talk about role reversal._

Albus gasped and his eyes snapped open. Harry hesitated, wondering if he'd done the right thing, but Albus, still trembling slightly, rubbed his eyes and focused on Harry. He seemed to instantly relax when he saw him.

"Are you okay?" Harry whispered, continuing to rub his shoulder comfortingly. Albus nodded wordlessly, obviously still shaken.

"Bad dreams?" he asked. Albus gave a slight smile. "Just one. Thank you, Harry. Am I squashing Monty?"

Harry looked down and was surprised to find the bear – who had been in Harry' hold – had somehow worked his way under Albus' elbow. Albus shifted out of the way and picked him up, and then spoke to him.

"I do apologize, Monty. It seems when I am asleep I have no control over my actions." Harry smiled, and Albus, encouraged by this, put on a gruff voice and replied.

"No problem, Mr Dumbledore. If I can put up with Dudley Dursley pulling my ears off, I can cope with some old coot using me as an arm-rest."

Harry sniggered and joined in. "Monty, don't be rude!"

Albus tweaked Monty's nose slightly so it looked like he was pouting. Harry laughed out loud. Albus tried to pass Monty back to Harry, but Harry pushed him back.

"You keep him. You need him more than I do." Their eyes met, and both laughed. Albus tucked Monty neatly in between them.

"There. Now we can share him." Harry and Albus chuckled as they lay back down properly.

"Albus?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"About your … do you want to talk about it?"

There was a moment of silence before Albus replied. "Thank you Harry, but this was one thing I'd rather forget." Harry nodded understandingly and burrowed further into the covers, putting his arms round both Albus and Monty, and feeling secure with the pair of arms that held him in return.

"Goodness, this brings back memories," Albus chuckled into the dark. "I think I must have been about your age the last time I shared my bed with a teddy bear."

"Did you have a bear of your own then?"

"Actually, no … I had a stuffed dog called Ruff till I was ten. Before Aberforth – er – disposed of him."

"Disposed?"

"Flushed him down the toilet."

"He flushed your dog down the toilet?"

"Yes … mind you, he was only five at the time – not that I ever forgave him for it."

"Why did he?"

Albus chuckled again. For a moment Harry didn't think he was going to answer, but then he spoke up. "Our family were going on holiday, and they requested we only took one toy animal each. I only had Ruff, so that was all right, but my brother wanted to bring his entire teddy bear collection. He had an argument with my mother and he got rid of Ruff as vengeance."

"That wasn't very nice." To Harry, Aberforth Dumbledore sounded uncomfortably like Dudley Dursley.

"I didn't notice Ruff was missing until we were about to leave. We spent about three hours looking for him before Aberforth burst into tears and confessed. We had to have a plumber in and everything. My darling brother was made to pay the bill, and the holiday got cancelled."

Harry lay quietly, contemplating this. Maybe Aberforth wasn't so bad after all – he had only been five, and he had admitted it. That made him far outstrip Dudley, in Harry's opinion.

"I thought you said you were my age the last time you shared your bed with a teddy bear."

"I was. When I went to Hogwarts, I only saw my brother and sister in the holidays – at least until Aberforth started school. When I was home, they used to come into my room at night – and bring their entire animal menageries. It got a bit crowded, but it's one of my more pleasant memories."

"You have a sister?"

Albus went quiet. Finally he said, "I used to."

Harry swallowed, wishing he hadn't said anything. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for a few minutes before Albus spoke again.

"Aberforth only had bears, and Aminta had a variety of different animals – or was it the other way around? Goodness, I must be getting old if I can't remember that."

Harry smiled slightly.

"Yes, it must have been that way around. I remember Aminta's favourite was the giraffe – and Aberforth got teased in his first year because he insisted on taking his entire bear collection with him."

The silence fell again. Harry was bursting to ask about Aminta Dumbledore, but knew better. Instead he said, "Where does your brother live?"

"No idea. He travels around all over the place. He's been to Egypt a lot; I think he likes it there particularly. He's very interested in the Ancient artefacts. You'd better keep that collection of yours secret if you ever meet him, or he'll have it off you faster than you can say 'Tutankhamen'."

* * *

Both Harry and Albus overslept the next morning. Hedwig woke them rudely by hooting loudly. Harry, who had been lying on the edge of the bed, started and fell off, and Albus, who had still had his arms round him and Monty, followed. 

"OUCH!"

"Sorry, Harry."

Both laughed as they scrambled to their feet. Hedwig hooted again indignantly.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. What post do you have? … Albus, this one's for you."

Albus caught the letter flung at him in one hand, stifling a yawn with the other. He recognized Minerva's handwriting and slit it open, his eyes widening with pleasure when he saw what was written.

Harry had already taken his post off Hedwig and left the room. He sighed and tucked the letter in his pocket. He'd surprise Harry with it later.

After breakfast found Harry absorbed in his Animagus book, Conan the snake coiled up in the sun on the windowsill. Albus left them to it, instead rounding up all of their belongings, which had somehow got scattered all over the place. When he checked on Harry again, he'd turned to the Game Boy. Albus made a mental note to ask him how to work that thing, and called Dobby.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

He lowered his voice so Harry couldn't hear.

"Dobby, can you return to Hogwarts and tell Minerva I got her message, and Harry and I will be arriving tomorrow."

The elf's eyes widened. "We is going back to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Dobby. I think Harry and I can manage on our own until then."

"Very good, sir. Dobby will see you at Hogwarts!" The elf smiled and disappeared with a crack.

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep that night. It was nearing four in the morning. Albus had dropped off hours ago. Harry was lying still, on the edge of the bed away from him. 

The prospect of returning to Hogwarts had far from cheered him. In fact, it was the reason he was unable to sleep. He had acted happy when Albus had told him the news, but he wasn't.

He guiltily recalled all the attention Albus had been giving him ever since he'd arrived at Privet Drive. When Harry had put aside his bitter feelings for the sake of some comfort, he had no way of knowing what trouble it would land him in.

Because, once Harry was back at school, Albus, he knew, would no longer have time for him, what with being the headmaster. Harry wouldn't be able to go to him any time he liked, and there was the matter of the nights. He was sure that, had he not reached out to Albus (or was it the other way around? He wasn't sure), it wouldn't be so bad. Sirius, wonderful as he had been, hadn't been a very good fatherly figure. Now Harry had had a taster of what it was like to have someone always there, to offer him the parental support he'd secretly craved all his life, it would hurt ten times more.

It seemed whenever he found someone he could turn to, they left him.

Harry also felt guilty for feeling like this; wanting to keep Albus – _Dumbledore_ – with him, when he surely had more important things to do. He'd already lost his holiday because of him. Try as he might, Harry just couldn't bring himself to accept the fact that Albus _wanted_ to be with him.

He didn't believe Albus' claim to loving him either, although he desperately wanted to. No-one had ever said it to him before; why should they start now? He was sure everything Albus had said and done was to clear his own guilty conscience.

Harry heard Albus stirring beside him. He kept still, hoping he would go back to sleep, but no such luck.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

He knew from experience that summer that it was pointless to pretend, so he nodded, keeping his head turned away, ignoring the screams from his instincts.

"Nightmare?" Albus asked gently, placing a hand lightly on Harry's shoulder. Harry shrugged it off and Albus paused, confused. "I thought we'd moved on from that." He spoke lightly but could not conceal a trace of hurt in his voice. Harry bit back his guilt and said nothing.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He could almost see the frown. "That's not true. Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing," Harry insisted.

Albus sighed. "Remind me that we need to work on sharing your feelings more."

"Better hurry up, then. We go back to Hogwarts tomorrow – I mean, today." Harry tried to speak matter-of-factly, but Albus noticed the underline of bitterness.

"Is that what the problem is? Going back to Hogwarts?" His tone sounded somewhere between incredulous, hopeful and disbelieving.

Harry shrugged.

There was silence for a minute. Harry could feel Albus staring at him. He couldn't picture the expression on his face, but judging by his tone of voice, it seemed he'd caught him off-guard.

Albus watched the teenager carefully, before lying back down beside him and stroking his back gently. As well as offering affection, it gave him time to puzzle out Harry's answer. Harry, however, loosened up enough to accept the attention and pressed himself into it, secretly relishing the gentle touch in a way he wouldn't have thought possible before that summer. He figured Albus was still trying to work out what he meant, and decided to help him out, despite his normal plan, which was to keep his feelings concealed from everybody.

"It's just… I'll miss all this."

Albus was silent. After a long pause he reached out and pulled Harry into a loose hug, who despite himself, welcomed the embrace and turned into it, wrapping his arms around him.

"Harry," Albus started, "obviously, when we're back at Hogwarts things will be a bit different, but I don't want anything to change between us."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. Albus nodded.

"Yes. You know you can come to me any time."

"Even in the middle of the night?" Harry half-joked.

"Yes."

Harry fell silent, thinking.

"Harry, I have a – spare room opposite my own; if – if you wish, it… can be yours. For as long as you want."

"Really?"

"Yes, _really_. I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't sure."

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking about it. The offer had left him with a sudden warmth of gratitude. He pulled himself closer, whispering, "Thanks."

Albus smiled. "And you're always welcome to come and wake me if you need to – if you're having a bad night, or just want some company… just don't use water to do it. I've never liked a wet bed."

There was a pause before they both laughed.

"Better?" Albus asked.

Harry nodded, yawning. "Lots." He snuggled further into Albus' embrace, ready to go to sleep.

"I'll let you sleep in later if you want, seeing how you've been awake all night." Albus paused, but Harry had already fallen asleep.

* * *

Albus left Harry asleep and went downstairs by himself later. The post had arrived, bringing mail from Madam Pomfrey. She'd sent a potion for Harry's bike-pump wounds with strict instructions, and a reply to his request to research the other problem. 

_Albus –_

_Sorry for taking so long to get back to you, but I only just received your letter. I've been researching_ Latnem Misfacio_ like you asked, and have enclosed what I have found out._

_I don't know what you think, but I don't think what you described necessarily sounds like Latnem. The circumstances don't fit – he seems to be almost normal during the day, or as normal as a boy who's just lost his godfather can act. Also, you said he's been suffering from nightmares – they could be completely unrelated; Harry has been through a lot recently, it's only to be expected, and sometimes the Dreamless Sleep Potion doesn't work. The only thing that sounds similar is the wounds on the wrists. This is not my area of expertise, so have a look at what I've enclosed and talk to someone who has a better understanding of it than I do. I'm sorry I cannot be of more help._

_Honestly I have no idea what else it could be – unless it's not an illness he has. If it's not, you have a big problem on your hands; it sounds to me like it could be Dark magic. This is not my area of expertise, so you'll have to look for other help there. I've sent what I found from my research, but I don't think it quite adds up. Have a look yourself and see what you think._

_Poppy_

Albus put aside the letter and unfolded the sheaf of parchment that came with it.

Ten minutes later, he put it aside and put his head in his hands.

_This is very bad._

Dark magic they could deal with. Latnem _Misfacio_ was another story.

* * *

"Harry, wake up! HARRY! Harry, wake up, now!" 

Harry groaned and turned over, cringing as someone pulled off his covers.

"Harry, come on, get up, this is an emergency!"

"Whaa…" Harry mumbled. Someone seized his shoulders, pulling him up.

"Albus … what …?"

"Harry, come on, wake up, get your wand, now!"

A shower of something cold and wet sprayed over him. He gasped, now fully awake. Albus was pulling him to his feet hurriedly, thrusting his wand into his hand. Harry could hear noises outside his room – screaming, banging and a crackling sound.

Albus had his own wand out. He seized Harry by the arm and pulled him out onto the landing. The screaming and banging was coming from the locked doors. The crackling was downstairs. Harry and Albus started down them, but stopped halfway.

Fire.

The kitchen was ablaze, and thick smoke was filling the hall. Harry and Albus began to choke and the older wizard pulled Harry back up the stairs as the carpet caught light. Albus sprayed water from his wand, but it only made the fire worse.

The noises from the other upstairs rooms were becoming more and more frantic. Harry pointed his wand and yelled, "_Alohomora!_"

He had been concentrating on making the spell powerful enough to open all the doors, but wasn't prepared for them to be blasted off their hinges, expelling the Dursleys in a cloud of dust. Vernon roared when he saw Albus and started towards him, but he neatly dodged him and pulled Harry into the Dursleys' room.

Harry shot the Reductor Curse at the window, but to his surprise the window stayed intact, the glass absorbing the spell. Albus tried too, but the same thing happened.

It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. Harry slammed the bedroom door shut and Petunia, who seemed to have snapped out of her panic, blocked up the crack at the bottom with the bedclothes.

Albus tried spell after spell, but the window soaked up each one, staying as solid as ever. Vernon pushed him aside and flung the dressing-table stool at it. Splinters of wood flew everywhere, but no glass.

They were trapped. Dudley was shaking in his mother's arms. Vernon was attempting to break the window using brute force. Harry and Albus crouched low to the ground, the former clutching at his headmaster, who had one arm round him firmly and clutching his wand in the other. Several times he tried to say an incantation, but they were all coughing on the smoke seeping fast into the room. Finally he managed to choke out, "_Portus!_" at one of Uncle Vernon's slippers. "Everyone grab on!"

Harry lunged for the slipper at the same time as Petunia and Dudley. Albus turned to Vernon, who was still frantically trying to shatter the glass.

"Dursley, here, quick!"

Vernon took another swing at the window.

"You can't do it like that! Come on, I'll get us out of here!"

"You FREAKS!" Vernon roared. "You did this! You brought all this down on my family, you and your blasted kind, so excuse me if I don't want to put my faith in your magic right now!"

The door burst into flames.

"VERNON!" Petunia screamed, but was cut off as Albus grabbed the Portkey, activating it. Harry felt a familiar jerk around his navel and the Dursleys' house was lost in a whirl of wind and colour.

**TBC…**

**A/N: So… what's _Latnem Misfacio_? Does Harry have it or not? Are the nightmares relevant, or just a red herring? How did the Dursleys' place catch fire? Will Harry's birthday wish come true? Hehe, I'm so evil – you're gonna have to wait to find out!**

**About Aberforth: I know perfectly well he's the barman of the Hog's Head. However, I started this fic before I found out, and by the time I had he was too involved in this fic for me to change. I did try to edit this in several different ways, but I couldn't. So this is a very non-canon Aberforth Dumbledore. Enjoy my characterization of him, and please don't criticize me.**

**Chapter Seven – Where Dwell the Brave at Heart**

Teaser: The mysteries begin to unravel, and Albus introduces Harry to an old friend

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Ginny:** Aw, thank you so much.

**Wulfric Gryffindor:** Hey, Albus is my favourite character. I don't think you're sick and twisted to think of him as a (grand)fatherly figure to Harry – that's where this whole story comes from! I've always thought Albus is the best adult figure in Harry's life. I don't know where those episodes came from – they just seemed to jump into the writing and when I proof-read the chapter I thought, "Huh?" Thanx for reviewing – I'm glad I made you laugh.

**Rosaleen:** I hope all the rest of the chapters will be that long. I'm glad you think the Albus-Harry relationship seems realistic – I was worried about it seeming rushed. And I like sweet. I sent you a message about the anonymous reviews – I have changed it and noted it in my profile as well. Thanx for reviewing!

**looneyno1:** Thanx so much – I'm hoping to keep the balance like that

**Shadow-Hawk Opal:** Well, I like chapter 7 best at the mo, but as it's not posted yet… lol. I love the lullaby – I don't know if you've heard the original (if you haven't, check it out), but I was singing it in the car yesterday when I was celebrating having posted chapter 5. I treated myself to a couple of new books, two more borrowed from the library, and four rented CDs. I haven't read Sleep or Guardians of Power – let me know who they're by so I can. I've read Web of Lies, and I loved it – one of my favourite fics. I fully intend to finish this fic, don't worry. About the dreams/cuts… I can't tell you what it is yet, but you'll soon find out what Albus suspects. The question is – is he right? If you want l/d scenario… you've come to the right place – it just won't be for a few chapters. Shh!

**Padawan Jan-AQ:** Your fingers must be tired after writing all that! I'm glad you like all the Albus-Harry – everyone has commented, saying how lovely it is… I'm touched! I love it too. I got the idea of having them together from another fic, which had Harry and Remus together at Privet Drive. Except I prefer Harry and Albus, so there you go. I was lying awake late last night, planning the Snape-finding-out scene in my head. Up until now I wasn't sure how I was going to do it, but your review gave me an idea! ;-) I thought the scene at Hogwarts was a little long, but I didn't have the heart to cut any. Heather Louise's future? Wait and see! As for Petunia and Dudley, they're locked up too. Thanks for the compliments – the dream where the room was moving was actually based on one I had (except the room I was in was meant to be a cinema – huh? Dreams are weird). H/C is one of my favourite genres. I had to make up the werewolf law to get Remus out of the picture (poor bloke) – it didn't suit well with the storyline, but I didn't want to make him hard and uncaring. So poor Remy is suffering. I'm evil. About the scene changes – I had been putting in a separation thing, but I didn't realize FFN was deleting it. I've put them in, and reformatted all my fics. There will be some Snape in this fic – not a huge amount, but he does play an important role. Once back at school there will be quite a bit of Snape-Harry scenes. I'll look up Potions and Snitches when I've reformatted my chapters, and maybe when I've finished writing this fic I'll see if there is enough Harry-Snape. If not, I'm thinking of doing a companion fic that's the whole story from Snape's POV – he does get up to a lot while Harry and Albus are elsewhere. I can post that there.

**Arica, Princess of Rivendell:** Here you are!

**SailorHecate:** Thanks – and what do you mean by intrigued?

**Von:** How can you think HL is Harry's mum? She's only 26! And the brown eyes thing is a coincidence – I didn't realize till you pointed it out. You might drop your trust in a few chapters – I'm afraid you haven't seen the worst of it yet (sorry!). I tend to torture my characters (and not necessarily literally). The good news is, no matter what happens in the fic, I've never been able to bring myself to write an ending that isn't happy. But I'm like JKR in the sense that not everything I write should be taken at face value; a lot of what I have planned may appear to be one thing and turn out to be… well, something else. So, I say wait and see what you think later on.

**Freddie:** Ah, I wondered who it was that wrote to Rosaleen. I'm glad you like my story, but don't get into trouble because you're late to your lesson! About the lullaby… I'm glad someone picked up on that. No, it's not just known to Albus… but he really didn't expect Harry to have heard it before. Re-read the chapter and see if you can spot something else Harry says that Albus reacts funny to… lol. He'll put two and two together in the next chapter – you'll see.

**dubdigit:** Why, thank you. Suspense is one of my middle names… actually it's not, but you get the point.

**Danielle:** Thank you so much – I'll try and keep the chapters longer, and the Harry-Albus will be coming in truckloads.

**Crazy-Physcho:** Er, thanks. Isn't your name meant to be Crazy-Psycho, or did you deliberately misspell it? Lol just wondering.

**OrganaSolo:** There is definitely a shortage of Harry and Albus stories, which is unfortunate because they're my favourite type (just in case you haven't realized by now, hehe). Thank you so much. As for the next chapter … I'm working on it.

**Baldur:** I most certainly do not mind people guessing. I laugh when they're so far off and I laugh when they hit the mark as well – although it's a different type of laugh. I too am lazy, so don't worry about not logging in – I can have anonymous reviews now, so my reviewers can afford to be lazy. ;-) Albus has never had children of his own, just so you know, so he can't be Heather Louise's grandfather. The real answer is in the next chapter, where I will reveal which reviewer was the closest.

**Gershwhen:** Don't worry – I realized I haven't been very clear about the Dursley thing; see the A/N at the beginning of the chapter. Nope, Heather Louise won't get in the way – again, see A/N. Your review was what made me decide to write that. I can't promise Albus won't make any mistakes whatsoever, but he's even more stubborn than Harry; he won't give up. The Dursleys don't actually see Dobby – they're locked up when he's around, and he leaves before Harry lets them out at the end of this chapter. The focus will mainly stay on Harry, and mostly what Albus offers him, although there will be points when he's interacting with other adults. Trust me, Harry's gonna need a LOT of comfort/support.

**Just a little note: I write the responses in Word as I receive them, so I don't spend hours over them when I've finished a chapter. It also saves my inbox from clogging up with review alerts. This may answer a couple of queries as to funny phrasing in them.**

**Thank you everyone for reviewing – it fuels my writing! I live off reviews!**

**A.M.H xXx**

**_Note about reviewing:_**_ Please, for the love of Merlin, **do not** review simply to tell me to **update**! I get it all the time and am sick of it. **If **you review, **please** say what it is you did or didn't like, and bulk out your review as much as possible. Make it worth the review alert, please! As always I love guesses where the story is headed and what I'm going to do next, and helpful suggestions are always welcomed. Don't flame.  
Thanks. _


	7. Chapter Seven TEASER

**Chapter Seven Teaser**

She flinched slightly at the name, her hands over her mouth. "Well, thank Merlin you're both all right." She stepped forward and, taking both wizards by surprise, hugged Albus tightly in a way reminding Harry of Hermione whenever he or Ron did something stupid.

"_Minerva!_" Harry couldn't believe it; Albus was actually _blushing_. He hid a grin. Albus mumbled something that sounded like, "Not in front of Harry," and disentangled himself from Professor McGonagall's hold. She blinked, and rubbed her eyes. Harry tried not to smirk at her face when she realised that they were both still clad in their nightwear.

"Well," Professor McGonagall continued once she'd regained her composure, carefully looking anywhere but at the furry custard-coloured Puffskeins on Albus' pyjamas, "I think you two ought to be getting back off to bed."

_Yes, definitely like Hermione_, Harry decided.

"Ah," Albus said, sounding quite pleased, as though he'd remembered something good. "Minerva, would you do us the honour of accompanying us?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, and Professor McGonagall looked surprised too. It was her turn to go pink. Noticing, Albus said quickly, "I haven't had the opportunity to see Harry's new sleeping arrangements, and I'm sure he would appreciate being shown around."

"Oh – of course. Follow me, Mr Potter." Although the words were formal, the tone was also playful as Professor McGonagall offered Harry her arm and smiled. Amused, Harry took it and allowed her to lead him through into Albus' quarters.


	8. Another Chapter Seven TEASER

**Another Chapter Seven Teaser**

"I've got something to show you."

When Harry looked at him questioningly he merely grinned and moved towards his fireplace. There were four tiles above, each with an animal engraved on them: a lion, a badger, an eagle and a serpent. Albus pressed the eagle and the stone sunk about half an inch into the stone before moving back into position. He continued to do this several times, each with a different animal, in a secret combination. Then he stood back.

The fireplace sunk into the wall and spun round, revealing a large, dark space. Albus gave Harry a nudge on the back and he stepped through nervously. The other side was pitch black. As he tried to see through the darkness he heard the doorway closing behind him.

Suddenly light flared up in many lamps. Harry blinked, his eyes watering.

The room was _huge_. The domed ceiling was half the height of the Great Hall, and half as long. The curved walls were lined with shelves, bookcases, display cases, cupboards and cabinets. Things were whirring animatedly all over the place; it was a flurry of colour. At the end of the room hung a pair of heavy, moth-eaten curtains.

"Welcome, Harry, to my secret grotto."


	9. Yet Another Chapter Seven TEASER

**Yet Another Chapter Seven Teaser**

"Harry? Are you awake?"

He moaned in reply. "What's the time?"

Albus looked at the clock and groaned as well. "Eight twenty. How do you feel now?"

"Absolutely lousy," Harry muttered darkly, pulling the covers over his head. Albus pulled them back down and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"You're still a bit warmer than usual. You're staying in bed today, Harry."

Harry nodded, his eyes still closed. "What's that?"

Albus sat up, listening. It sounded like two people nearby having a heated argument. He slid out of bed, holding a hand to his forehead, and had just pulled on his dressing-gown when an angry voice yelled his name from the next room.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"

"Oh, no," he muttered.

The door flew open to reveal a very red-faced Molly Weasley.

"You are in _very deep_ trouble, Albus!" she stormed, flying at him as if she wanted to hit him. Harry saw him flinch, although that could have been because of the headache. "FIVE HOURS we've been waiting, after Remus woke us and told us Privet Drive was on fire! FIVE HOURS! You couldn't _once_ have thought to tell us Harry was -"

She stopped in mid-sentence, her mouth open as she saw Harry sitting up in bed. He grinned sheepishly.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley – Oof!"

**AN:** The next installment will be the full chapter, I SWEAR. What does everyone think about Harry/Daphne Greengrass as the new ship? I've discovered I can't write Harry/Luna believably - I might have been able to get away with it for this fic and he next, but definitely not the ones after that.


	10. Where Dwell the Brave at Heart COMPLETE!

_**Summary:** Harry is struggling to come to terms with the last year's events and having problems trusting people again. When Albus Dumbledore is appointed his new guardian he starts trying everything possible to help Harry reach out to others and see the beauty inside himself. But the rest of the world has other ideas …_

**Author's Notes:** Wow … so much to say I don't know where to start. (sigh) I am **SO SO SO SO SO** sorry for not completing this chapter sooner – I have a long list of reasons which to be honest I am just too tired to write down now. This is the completed version of the chapter, so if you've been reading the chapter segments (which I've just replaced with small clips instead) and don't want to re-read them, then skim down till you get to the line **EaGLEaGLEaGLEaGL**(etc), as that signifies the break between what you've already read and the rest of the chapter.  
If anyone's curious about Lily's diary, I've started "Lily's Secret" which basically is her diary – see my profile page. Also, a reminder that "Changes" exists and is also a companion to this fic, as is "Letters".  
Oh and I've **changed the ship** to **Harry/Daphne Greengrass**, who will appear hopefully early into term. Sorry about the change, but I've realised I can't write Luna ships. (sigh)  
  
-----__

**Last Chapter:** Petunia screamed, but was cut off as Albus grabbed the Portkey, activating it. Harry felt a familiar jerk around his navel and the Dursleys' house was lost in a whirl of wind and colour.

**Chapter Seven: Where Dwell the Brave at Heart (COMPLETE VERSION!!!!!)**

"It doesn't make sense."

Albus took his head out of his hands to look at Harry, who was nervously pacing the office.

"I mean, it had to be Voldemort, or Dark Magic at the least, so why not just attack?" Harry flopped heavily into a chair. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I; I was just thinking that," Albus said in a low voice, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Harry watched him. He'd come to recognise that action as a sign of Albus being confused, anxious, tired, or a combination of all three. "It's not like Tom to be indirect like that, and that's what's worrying."

The two wizards and the two remaining Dursleys had arrived in Albus' office, still coughing on the smoke. Petunia and Dudley, who were in shock, had been taken to Madam Pomfrey, and Albus had waited to discuss the happenings with Harry until they were out of the way.

"How come Voldemort was able to set light to the place anyway?" Harry murmured. "Was there some fault in the wards or something?"

Albus shook his head. "Not exactly. Those wards were fragile. If there was a fault, then they would just collapse completely. That must have been what happened. It didn't even occur to me to check they were still standing when we came back from France." Albus grimaced. "I'm sorry Harry, but I just didn't think. The wards fell because you were out of the house for too long too soon."

Harry groaned, and stifled a yawn. Someone knocked at the door, and Harry glanced at the clock, wondering who on earth was coming to the headmaster's office at four in the morning, for that was what the time was.

"Come in," Albus called. The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall in a tartan dressing-gown and her hair loose. Harry noticed it looked quite nice like that.

"Poppy fire-called me to say you two were back. I must say, when I said it was safe to return today, I didn't mean quite _this_ early," she said, her eyes twinkling in an almost Albus-like way.

"Good morning, Minerva. We didn't really have a lot of say in the matter. The Dursleys' place is burnt to the ground."

"WHAT??? How did that happen?"

"We're guessing Voldemort, but at the moment we don't have a lot of proof."

She flinched slightly at the name, her hands over her mouth. "Well, thank Merlin you're both all right." She stepped forward and, taking both wizards by surprise, hugged Albus tightly in a way reminding Harry of Hermione whenever he or Ron did something stupid.

"_Minerva!_" Harry couldn't believe it; Albus was actually _blushing_. He hid a grin. Albus mumbled something that sounded like, "Not in front of Harry," and disentangled himself from Professor McGonagall's hold. She blinked, and rubbed her eyes. Harry tried not to smirk at her face when she realised that they were both still clad in their nightwear.

"Well," Professor McGonagall continued once she'd regained her composure, carefully looking anywhere but at the furry custard-coloured Puffskeins on Albus' pyjamas, "I think you two ought to be getting back off to bed."

_Yes, definitely like Hermione_, Harry decided.

"Ah," Albus said, sounding quite pleased, as though he'd remembered something good. "Minerva, would you do us the honour of accompanying us?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, and Professor McGonagall looked surprised too. It was her turn to go pink. Noticing, Albus said quickly, "I haven't had the opportunity to see Harry's new sleeping arrangements, and I'm sure he would appreciate being shown around."

"Oh – of course. Follow me, Mr Potter." Although the words were formal, the tone was also playful as Professor McGonagall offered Harry her arm and smiled. Amused, Harry took it and allowed her to lead him through into Albus' quarters.

He looked around as they entered. It was like large flat, only with older walls and furnishings. He had time to glimpse the kitchen, the sitting-room and the study before Professor McGonagall opened another door. Harry felt an inexplicable lump in his throat as he saw the words _Harry's Room_ written on the plaque.

He didn't have time to comment – he didn't know what to say anyway – before Professor McGonagall pushed him inside, Albus following close behind. Harry's jaw dropped.

It was _beautiful_. He saw a four-poster bed first, remarkably similar to the one in the Gryffindor dormitory, only the hangings were half red and gold, half royal blue and gold. The walls were a creamy white, the curtains ruby and the carpet a soft sky blue. In addition to the bed, there was a waiting chest-of-drawers, desk, wardrobe and bedside table. Several moving Quidditch posters were plastered to the walls, and his trunk, which Albus had sent over that morning, was open by the bed.

"Well? What do you think? … Harry?"

For several moments Harry could only open and close his mouth noiselessly, but he finally found his voice.

"It's -" he swallowed and tried again. "It's _wonderful_."

Professor McGonagall's face split into the widest smile Harry had ever seen on her. "You like it?"

"I love it … How did it happen, Albus? You've been with me all week …"

Albus chuckled. "That would be Minerva. Hogwarts could have organised a room for you herself, but I thought a homemade touch would be nicer. Don't you think so?"

"Definitely. Thank you, Professor!"

Professor McGonagall chuckled as Harry hugged her hard, and ruffled his hair fondly. "Don't mention it. I've always been rather fond of DIY."

"DIY?" Albus asked, apparently confused. Harry and Professor McGonagall laughed.

"I'm sure your cub will explain later. Talking of whom, Harry, do you like the posters?"

He nodded. The posters were of several different teams – although there was one of Ron's team, the Chudley Cannons, there was also one of their bitter rivals the Tornadoes. Harry grinned at the thought of the look on Ron's face when he saw it.

"I do. Is this why you wanted to know what team I supported?"

"Yes. But Albus said anything, so I got a bit of everything."

Harry pointed to the Tutshill Tornadoes poster. "Ron's not going to like that one."

"Oh." Professor McGonagall looked disappointed. "Do you want to remove it?"

"What? 'Course not! Tough on Ron." Both adults laughed.

"Right, now you two are _definitely_ going to bed. No buts. Harry can be shown round more in the morning."

"It is morning," Harry pointed out.

"_Later_ in the morning. Go on, you two, shoo!"

Albus stared at her. "Er … Minerva, you're the one who's in _our_ quarters."

She blinked. "Oh … sorry. Lack of sleep catching up with me." She shot Harry one last smile and bade them both goodnight. Harry grinned back as he collapsed backwards onto his new bed. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and washing powder.

As she departed, Professor McGonagall couldn't seem to restrain herself from commenting. "Albus, do you _really_ have to wear those ridiculous things?"

"What's wrong with them?" Albus asked, sounding hurt. Harry didn't hear Professor McGonagall's answer as he buried his face in his pillow to muffle his laughter.

-----

_It started out pleasantly. Harry and two others he thought he recognised, but couldn't see clearly enough to identify, were talking quietly in a room he also thought looked familiar but couldn't place. It was large and bare; a couple of rugs were thrown on the floor, the furniture was little but ornately carved, the windows had no glass but the air was warm._

Harry faded in and out of the conversation: he caught the odd word or phrase, but not enough to make sense of what they were saying. It seemed to be an ordinary mundane conversation, but there was something about it that wasn't quite right – Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

Before he could figure it out, it all changed – several strangers dressed in black appeared suddenly in the doorway, fierce weapons out and pointing at the three of them.

After that it was a blur … Someone was screaming … Clashes of metal … Flashes of light … A sudden wave of heat … Harry running, running after the strangers …

A sudden pain in his head.

A shout of fury.

Flesh hitting dry earth.

Blood spreading over the ground.

A whir of colour and sound and a blinding headache.

Fire.

Shouting. The shouting was him.

Stone silence.

One sentence.

A scream. Two screams.

A whir of colour and sound and a blinding headache.

The thud of wood hitting earth.

It was over …

Harry jerked awake, shaking and breathing heavily, biting his lip painfully to stop himself from screaming out loud.

_It's alright_, he told himself in a imitation of Albus' voice. _It's just a nightmare. Just another stupid nightmare._

He tasted blood in his mouth and loosened his bite. A metallic taste started spreading over his tongue and he grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and spat into it, shuddering.

_Okay, next time I go to sleep with a silencing charm. Yuk._

Harry slid out of bed and padded softly across the room. Light was already starting to filter through the curtains, cast a reddish glow over the room. Harry pushed open the smaller door next to the desk to discover that he'd been right: it was a bathroom. It only held a shower, not a bath, but all he wanted was a sink.

Several mouth-washes later and blood was still mixing with the water. Harry was beginning to panic slightly. His lip wasn't bleeding that badly, was it? He pulled the curtain back to shed some more light into the room and peered into the mirror. For one wild moment he thought he saw something … odd … flicker in his eyes, but the next moment he convinced himself it was his imagination playing tricks on him in the aftermath of the nightmare.

He could see the dark substance in his mouth. He could taste it too. He coughed into his hand. More blood.

_Uh-oh. This isn't good._

The horrible taste was welling up in the back of his throat, making him choke. Dark red spots appeared on the mirror.

_I need Albus_, Harry thought desperately, wiping his mouth shakily on the back of his hand. He thumped on the wall between coughs, and heard movement in the next room. A moment later the bathroom door was pushed open and Albus hurried in.

"Harry?" He gasped at the blood smeared everywhere. "Merlin; what is it?" He reached out to Harry's shoulders as Harry coughed one last time.

"It's gone," Harry murmured weakly in shock. He wiped his mouth shakily and coughed onto his hand again, just to make sure. "It's stopped."

"What was it? What happened?" Albus asked urgently. "Harry?"

"Blood." This was stating the obvious, considering the state of the bathroom and Harry's pyjamas, but Harry was starting to shake, fear flooding him. "Blood … in my mouth …"

Albus' grip tightened on Harry's shoulders as his voice broke. The boy was suddenly terrified. All the injuries and opening wounds flowed back into his memories, painfully vivid. "What's happening to me? What is it, Albus?" Harry broke into choked sobs. Normally he would scold himself for acting like such a baby but right now he didn't care. He was scared and confused and just wanted reassurance.

"Oh, Harry!" Albus drew him tightly into a hug, Harry gripping his pyjama sleeves as if he never wanted to let go. Albus could feel Harry's thin form trembling violently against him and clutched him tighter, as if by holding him close enough he would be able to protect him, to keep him safe from Voldemort and Umbridge and the Death Eaters and Fudge and the Ministry and even himself.

"_Al-bus,_" Harry persisted, his voice coming out slightly muffled from Albus' shoulder. Albus was stroking his hair softly, a lump in his throat as he attempted to gather his thoughts. "T-tell me what's h-hap-pening."

Albus swallowed. "Harry … I …"

"P-please, Albus; I n-need-d t-to kn-know." Albus closed his eyes as Harry took a deep shuddering breath.

"Am – am I going to die?"

Albus froze, his eyes flying open.

_A muffled _flump_ of body hitting ground … His face was deathly pale … blood drying on his skin … the cold flesh …_

"Alb-bus, p-please," Harry begged. "You're h-hid-ding s-someth-thing. Am I d-d-dying?" His voice shook fearfully on the last word and Albus' grip tightened.

"N-n …" Albus swallowed and tried again. "N-no." He hoped Harry wouldn't notice just how much his voice was shaking. Harry relaxed very slightly, but still didn't let go.

"You know, though. What's hap-pening t-to me."

"I don't," Albus replied truthfully.

"You've g-got an idea, though. And you're not t-telling me. _Please_, Albus. I need to know."

Albus sighed, a painful lump arising in his throat. He had resolved not to bring up the subject unless Harry asked him directly. Now, there was no escaping it.

"Not here. Let's get you back to bed, then we'll talk."

Harry shivered. "Albus … can we go into your room? I d-don't want to be on my own tonight."

Albus pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Did you really think I'd leave you on your own after what's happened, you silly boy?" he murmured. Harry smiled slightly, it seemed in spite of himself. "Come on then."

Harry allowed himself to be carried from the bathroom, through his new room which was getting lighter, across the hall and into Albus'. From what he could see, it was decorated in Gryffindor colours.

"I thought you might like it," Albus said, reading Harry's expression as he laid him on the bed. Harry smiled a little more and snuggled into Albus as they lay down together. Albus gently ran a hand through the boy's hair, attempting – fruitlessly – to smooth it down.

Harry was a little calmer, and for a minute they just lay there together, Harry curled up in Albus' arms, but the silence didn't stretch for long.

"Albus," Harry murmured.

"Harry?"

"Please tell me what you think. I'm s-scared. You said you wouldn't keep things from me again."

"I know." Albus kissed the top of his head. "I know, Harry, I just didn't want to say anything until I was sure either way."

"So …?"

Albus sighed and braced himself. "I …" He paused and felt Harry's forehead. "Harry, you've got a temperature again."

"Have I?"

"Yes. You're shivering …" Albus pulled the covers up over Harry's shoulders. Harry moaned and tried to fight him off but Albus won.

Harry could barely move his arm to rub his eyes. "Am I ill? I mean, seriously."

"I don't honestly know, Harry. When you had a fever back at Heather Louise's, it was just after – well, the cuts opening again, wasn't it?"

"Er …" Harry strained his memory, trying to remember. "I think so. Is it significant?"

"If you've had a fever after every time, then yes; it would make all the difference. The problem is working out what is actually wrong."

"So … is there no record of this happening before, or what?"

"In a way. You see, Harry, there is an … illness … that creates wounds on the body, which is what I considered at first, but it's … not a physical illness, more a … psychological one, that becomes physical."

"I don't understand you."

Albus sat up slightly, reached for his wand and summoned a sheaf of parchment. "This is it. _Latnem Misfacio_."

Harry pushed the covers off his shoulders and sat up to get a better look.

"_Latnem Misfacio_ is an unusual mental illness that appears in the form of wounds and injuries appearing on the body. It's caused by severe stress and/or emotional trauma, mostly the latter. The treatment is psychological, not magical, making it difficult to overcome and is unique to every sufferer. A person's magic is used, consciously or subconsciously, to cause self-harm, and in some very rare cases has been known to be … fatal."

Harry swallowed.

"It goes into more detail here," Albus continued, shuffling through the sheaf, "but you get the general idea."

"It certainly sounds like it. Why don't you think that's what I have? Not that I _want_ it, but …"

"Because, as I've already said, as far as I can tell, the only physical aspects of _Latnem Misfacio_ are the actual injuries. The rest is purely in the mind, meaning that sufferers are not themselves mentally, which you seem to be, all things considered. Plus there's been no mention of side-effects such as fevers."

Harry bit his lip. "So that's all we've got to go on."

"There's also the fact, now," Albus continued, more gently, "that blood in the mouth is definitely not a symptom."

"I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried," Harry muttered. "I think I'd rather know what I have, even if it's bad news."

"I know," Albus said wearily, "but at the moment I can't find anything." He sighed. "I asked Madam Pomfrey for help in researching the illness. I didn't tell her what I wanted to know for, but she realised right away." Harry nodded understandingly. "We'll need more help with this, Harry. Do I have your permission to let Poppy give you an examination?"

Rather startled that he had asked first, Harry nodded. "I want to know what's wrong."

Albus smiled sadly and hugged him. "Good boy. Now get back into bed."

Harry stuck his tongue out. Albus pushed him under the covers and lay down next to him, closing his eyes. Harry's arms crept round his torso. It was almost morning but after the emotional drama of the night both were determined to get some more shuteye.

"Albus?"

"Mm?"

"I have a question."

Albus yawned. "Go ahead."

"Why did Professor McGonagall call me 'your cub'?"

Albus frowned into his pillow for a moment. "Did she? I don't … Oh yes, I remember." He put a hand over his mouth as he yawned again, his eyes still closed. "It's your nickname."

"I have a nickname?"

"Yes. Minerva and I were good friends with your parents … they were in the Order as well … We knew each other quite well and often babysat for you." He chuckled. "You loved it when she turned into her Animagus form. You used to search under the furniture to see where she'd gone."

Harry grinned. "I can just imagine that." He paused. "Albus …"

"Harry?"

"Did you spend a lot of time with me when I was little?"

"Oh, yes. Your parents said I was practically part of the family and had an excuse to favour Gryffindor when you were Sorted into it. Which of course wasn't true, because as the headmaster I have to be impartial."

Harry stared meaningfully around the room. "Impartial, right."

"It's not my fault I happen to like my old House colours."

Harry chuckled, but a thought appeared to him. "Um … Albus …"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would you have been disappointed if I'd been Sorted into Slytherin?"

Albus sat up straight, staring at him. Finally he said, "Only if you were unhappy in it."

"So, yes, then."

"Actually Harry, I think, given time, you would have settled into Slytherin, had you been Sorted there. I know you had a bad first impression of the House, but it's not as dark and evil as it's reputation gives it credit for. Most people in the House are fairly decent. My brother was a Slytherin … although I wouldn't exactly call him _decent_ …"

"What about -" Harry cut himself off.

"My sister?"

Harry nodded.

"The first Hufflepuff for … a long time. The rest of my family were mostly Ravenclaws, though my mother was a Slytherin."

"Albus," Harry murmured, "just out of curiosity, are you pure-blood?"

A chuckle answered him. "Now there's an interesting question. Yes and no."

"Meaning …?"

"Yes, a long time ago, but for a long time up till recently there have been only squibs born into the family. I was only the third generation of magic for several centuries."

"Wow. How come there were only squibs for so long?"

"Now _that_," Albus replied, "is a question with a long answer which I will tell you another time."

"Oh, go on, Albus …"

"Harry, it's … ten past six in the morning and we've had barely any sleep tonight. You are ill and I won't keep you up any longer."

"Spoilsport," Harry muttered.

Albus kissed his hot forehead, stroking the hair out his eyes. "Go to sleep. Goodnight, cub."

"G'night," Harry yawned, closing his eyes properly. Albus watched him for a moment, humming softly. Harry twitched.

"Can you sing that out loud?"

Albus smiled.

"_Sleep tight now little Angel  
May God bless you  
Don't be afraid of dreaming  
Cause Daddy's watching you_

_Sing a sweet lullaby  
For the tears that you cried …_"

Albus faltered. Harry was more relaxed in his arms, his breathing even, his face still slightly flushed but no longer tense. He brushed Harry's fringe out his face and paused. The lightning-bolt scar looked more distinct than usual, and the skin around it was inflamed and red.

Harry sighed lightly in his sleep. Albus hesitated, but in the end decided not to wake him. The night had been disturbed enough and Harry needed his sleep. It could wait till the morning.

-----

"Was the task successful?"

"It was, my Lord." Bellatrix bowed and kissed Harry's feet before holding out her hand. "We have the second emerald."

It was the chain Albus had given Harry at the beginning of the holiday. The green gem – the emerald – glinted brightly in the dark setting. Several Death Eaters were gathered round Voldemort and Bellatrix, watching but not joining in.

A pale spidery hand reached out and stroked the gem gently before pulling it from its chain. Harry was able to examine it properly, something he hadn't bothered to do before. It was as small and spherical as he remembered, very finely cut, and as bright a green as his own eyes. The light from the wand-tips danced on its surface. It was simply beautiful. Harry wondered what on earth it was.

"Any idea what it was doing in Potter's possession?"

"None, my Lord. There was a complex charm on it I didn't recognise, but Snape broke it before we brought it to you."

"Did he now? _Severus!_"

A figure Harry deemed to be Snape stepped forward. "My Lord."

"What is the meaning of this?"

Harry got the impression Snape was choosing his words very carefully.

"My Lord, you have since last month suspected that Dumbledore may be onto your plan, and when I heard the emerald was at Potter's I suspected a trap. The charm was some sort of tracking charm and I removed it at once before bringing it to you."

"Fool," Harry said softly. "When did you once inform me of your suspicions? And do you really expect _Dumbledore_ to be idiotic enough to cast a tracking charm that could be picked up?"

"I thought you also suspected a trap, my Lord, because you didn't go yourself, so I saw no reason to worry you further; and with the charm I thought it better to be safe than sorry. I realise now the charm could not have been what I deemed it to be, and I should not have removed it in such a hurry; but in my defence my Lord, we were in a hurry to clear the area and I thought I was taking the right option at the time."

Harry surveyed him for a moment before saying lazily, "_Crucio._"

Pain exploded in Harry's forehead as Snape writhed on the ground under the effects of the torture curse. In that moment Harry admired him: if this was what Death Eater meetings were like then Snape was a much braver man than anyone realised, willingly returning to the hornet's nest just for information. Not only that, he barely made a sound, though when Voldemort lifted the curse his lip was bleeding from where he'd been biting it, and Harry could see blood on his hands where he'd been digging his fingernails into his palms.

"Maybe that will teach you to think twice before acting on your own suspicions, Severus. Up."

Snape climbed shakily to his feet. Some of the Death Eaters were laughing quietly in the background as his legs shook.

"What of Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"We searched the ruins, my Lord," Snape panted, "But there was only one body found … It wasn't Potter's."

"How can this be?" Voldemort's voice hissed from Harry's mouth. "You were supposed to check he was inside before setting light to it!"

"He _was_ inside, my Lord," Bellatrix said, "He must have escaped somehow …"

Voldemort seethed, the pain in Harry's head building angrily. "_I want that boy dead!_ He has escaped me one too many times; next time _he will die!_"

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

There was a wet substance in Harry's mouth. As he woke up sharply, shaking, he spat it out. Fortunately it landed on the pillow rather than Albus.

"Shush, cub. Easy now." Albus continued to make calming noises, rubbing circles in Harry's back soothingly. Harry wiped his mouth on his already blood-crusted sleeve, only then realising there were tears on his face. His scar was aching fit to burst.

A wad of tissues was pressed into his hands and he wiped up what he could. The blood seemed to have vanished again, but his throat ached, and so did his joints. His head was pounding and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Albus -" he croaked.

"Shush." A pair of arms encircled him and he lay his head on Albus' shoulder, trying to gather his thoughts and push out the memories.

Albus pressed a cool hand to his forehead. "Harry, you're boiling."

Harry moaned as Albus pushed him down onto the bed after casting a quick _Scourgify_. "Stay where you are Harry, I'm getting Poppy."

He groaned at the thought. Albus understood.

"Would you prefer Minerva? She's a trained Healer as well."

"Okay …"

Harry lay shivering as Albus hurried out of the room. The momentary sick feeling had passed, but he still felt terrible. He hoped things would improve, or he'd have another hell of a year ahead. Somehow, he doubted the illness – whatever it was – would get any better.

He started to sit up again as Professor McGonagall entered the room, followed closely by Albus, but she pushed him firmly down.

"Oh no you don't." She sat down on the bed and pulled out her wand. "Albus, you couldn't even have put him in some clean pyjamas?"

"I came straight to you; I didn't even think about it."

She gave him the sort of look that she normally reserved for Harry and Ron when they were being inattentive, and turned back to Harry, sticking what he deemed to be a magical thermometer in his mouth. "Where does it hurt, Harry?"

"I' 'ath a 'ithion."

"Sorry?"

Harry poked the thermometer to one side with his tongue and repeated it clearer. "It wath a vithion."

"A vision? Voldemort?"

"You need to thee Prothethor Thnape – Cruthiathus."

Albus hesitated.

"Go and wait for Severus, Albus. I think Poppy's still got some of the pain-relieving potion in her cabinet. I'll stay with Harry."

Albus squeezed Harry's hand and left the room, leaving him alone with Professor McGonagall.

"Where does it hurt?" she repeated. Harry gestured to his throat and forehead and stayed quiet as she looked him over. "Is it just there or other places as well?"

"My thointh." At her blank look, he pointed at his wrists and elbows.

"Joints?" He nodded. "Let me see."

Professor McGonagall turned his wrists over in her hands and then his elbows. On close inspection, the wrists in particular looked lightly bruised. She frowned and drew the curtains slightly. Harry winced at the early morning light and put a hand over his eyes.

"Do you normally get joint pains?"

"Not really. But I thutht realithed they hurt thometimeth thith thummer when my hand bled."

"Your hand bled? Where?"

Albus re-entered the room before Harry could show her the words cut into the skin. "Severus is asleep now; I gave him a DSP as well. I told him I knew about the fire and that Harry was fine – well, not affected by the fire, anyway. He's got news, but that can wait."

"I can tell you what the newth ith," Harry said around the thermometer.

"I know Harry, but right now our priority is you."

"Well," Professor McGonagall said in a business-like way, "if you want to make yourself useful, you can get out some clean pyjamas for Harry – _Not_ some of your crazy pairs, give the poor boy something decent."

Harry chuckled as Albus glared at her and pulled a pair of midnight blue pyjamas with silver stars out of the drawer. "These acceptable, Minerva?"

She looked at them sceptically. "I've seen worse."

Harry had never seen a darker look on Albus' face than the one he focused on her then. It was obvious that insulting his pyjamas was not tolerated in any way, shape or form. But when Harry saw the slight spark of humour in his eye, he realised it was all in fun.

It took a moment for Professor McGonagall to realise why Harry and Albus were looking at her expectantly. She said "Oh," and turned round.

"Albuth, I can do -"

Albus took the thermometer out of Harry's mouth, glanced at it, did a double-take, let out a low whistle, put it down and started to take Harry's pyjama top off him.

"Al_bus_, let me do it – I'm not completely helpless -"

Professor McGonagall's shoulders were shaking slightly as they fought over the buttons. Harry was sure she was laughing at them. Eventually Albus straightened up with the bloody pyjamas.

"You can turn around again now, Minerva."

She turned and saw he'd taken the thermometer out. "_Albus!_"

He told her what it had said and her eyes widened. "Oh."

"What? Is that bad?" Harry asked anxiously.

"It's high," Albus said simply, depositing Harry's pyjamas in the laundry basket.

"_How_ high?"

"Not excessively high, but not normal," Minerva said quickly before Albus could answer. "Has it always been that bad?" She addressed the last bit to both of them.

"Around that, but I never took it so I can't be sure."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Albus, you are as useful as a chocolate teapot."

"That's an idea," Albus murmured thoughtfully but Professor McGonagall stopped him in his tracks. "Don't start getting any ideas, Albus."

He stuck his tongue out at her childishly as she turned back to Harry.

"Right. It seems I'm not completely clued-up about all this, so tell me everything from the start."

Albus sat on the bed the other side of Harry and began explaining Harry's symptoms. Harry wondered why he hadn't before, but thought that he hadn't had time when he was fetching her and hadn't had much opportunity since. His attention back on the explanation, he saw Professor McGonagall's face was horrified and suddenly thought, _What did I miss?_

"You're joking," she said in a faint voice.

"I'm not," Albus replied seriously. "Harry, show her."

"Show her what, sorry? I missed that bit."

Albus took his hand and turned it over, frowning as he did so – the scars were not bleeding, but were inflamed and red. Professor McGonagall took one look and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"That's sick," she mumbled, breathing hard. "That's absolutely vile. And on a _student!_"

"There's going to be a court case," Albus assured her. Harry blinked.

"Court case?"

Albus looked at him witheringly. "Harry, the quill she used on you was a registered Dark object. You must have realised it was illegal."

He shook his head. "I didn't think about it like that."

"Did she do it to you _every_ detention?" Professor McGonagall asked. Harry nodded and she closed her eyes in apparent horror.

"Oh Merlin, what have I done?"

"Professor?" Harry asked unsurely.

"What do you mean, Minerva?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, rocking back and forth slightly, reminiscent of Dobby.

"Sorry for what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Don't you remember?" Professor McGonagall ran a hand through her long hair. She seemed more discomposed than Harry had ever seen her. "You asked me if I could get you out of them and I said no. I told you off for not keeping your temper with her and I even said she had every right to give you detention." Her voice shook slightly on the last part. Harry was shocked to see a tear find its way onto her cheek. Albus was looking at her in surprise, obviously not having known about that. He hesitantly reached out to her shoulder but her hands clenched into fists, shock turning into anger, and he pulled back.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me, Harry? Had I known I – Oh, the _toad!_ Wait till I get my hands on her!"

"Minerva, you are not going anywhere near -"

"Harry, why didn't you tell me, for Merlin's sake? You know I would have stopped it! _Why didn't you tell me?_"

"She would have had you fired!" Harry exclaimed. "Her or Fudge. She could have done it easily if you'd kicked up a fuss about it. I couldn't do that!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him in disbelief. "Then why didn't you go to Albus?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Harry's mouth went dry and Albus dropped his eyes, shame filling them. Professor McGonagall looked from one to another and said softly, "Oh."

Harry looked down at his lap, unable to meet the eyes of either of the adults. They both felt guilty and ashamed, yet right at that moment Harry felt unable to pin any blame on either of them. He remembered clearly how angry he'd been at Professor McGonagall after he'd taken points, and the way he'd been mad at Albus all year and the beginning of the summer. He knew later the feelings would arise again but at that moment he just felt ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, still staring at his hands. He jumped violently when Professor McGonagall touched his shoulder.

"Don't be sorry Harry, it's not your fault."

He looked up at her. "You were the one who told me to keep my temper with Umbridge."

"I know, and I'm a hypocrite. Had I been in your position I think I would have said worse things, and probably hit or cursed her as well. I'm sorry."

He squared his shoulders. "You're a teacher, you're meant to say those things."

"Harry." Albus put his arm round him gingerly. "We're not blaming you, understand? Don't blame yourself."

"I'm not -"

"Yes, you are." Albus began gently stroking Harry's hair, something Harry had found soothing. "I can tell when you are. Your face looks pensive, your voice is low and there's guilt written in your eyes." Professor McGonagall looked astonished. Harry had to admit Albus was getting good at this. "We're not blaming you Harry, and don't you dare blame yourself. If anyone's to blame, I am."

"Did you _know_ about this Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked angrily.

Harry looked up, his throat going dry. _Had_ Albus known?

Albus shook his head slowly. "I heard rumours going round the school. I thought perhaps she may be using some – unconventional – method in her detentions, but I couldn't find out what. I didn't know it was a Blood Quill till after term ended, and I received a load of Howlers from a few angry parents."

"So _that's_ what happened to your quill."

Albus shook his head regretfully. "Burnt to ashes. Best one I had." He sighed.

"Talking of burnt to ashes," Professor McGonagall said, frowning, "what about this fire?"

"Can it wait, Minerva? I really don't think this the time. It's nearly seven o'clock for Merlin's sake, and neither Harry nor I have had more than a couple of hours' sleep."

"Emerald," Harry said suddenly, remembering.

Albus and Professor McGonagall blinked at him. "What?"

"I know why Voldemort set light to the house," Harry continued excitedly, wanting to get it out before he forgot the contents of the vision. "I saw the Death Eater meeting just now in my vision. He was after the emerald gem you gave me."

Professor McGonagall looked from Harry to Albus.

"Emerald? You one on the chain?" Harry nodded eagerly, suddenly feeling wide awake. "Are you sure?"

"Positive; I saw it. He's got it."

"What chain is this?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Albus felt around his neck, and frowned. "You said Voldemort's got it?"

Harry nodded. Albus leaned over and tugged the chain out from under Harry's pyjama top. "No he doesn't. He's got mine."

"You had one?"

Albus nodded. "They were meant to change colour and heat depending on where you were and what state you were in. It was the best thing I could come up with at short notice. I was hoping to find time to think up something better, but you ran off before I could, and you know the rest. I left it on the bedside table."

Harry nodded. "But why does Voldemort want it?"

Albus frowned. "That I have no idea about."

"What, aren't they special?"

"Not that I know of, other than sentimental value for me. They're earrings."

"_Earrings?_"

"My sister's. Aberforth gave them to her for her seventeenth birthday."

Harry leaned back against the pillow, frowning as he tried to remember what else had been said in the vision.

"The Death Eaters said … something about 'got the _second_ emerald'. There must be more than two. Where did your brother get the earrings from?"

"He made them, but I don't know where the original emeralds came from. If Voldemort's after them however, there must be something special about them." Albus fingered Harry's thoughtfully for a moment before taking the chain from around his neck. "I think we had better put this one somewhere safe."

"Like where?"

Albus tapped the side of his nose cheekily and exited the room.

Professor McGonagall sighed and it occurred to Harry that they'd been as good as ignoring her for the past few minutes. Before he could apologise, she spoke.

"Albus told you about Aminta?"

"A little. Not much, really. I don't want to pry."

"I wish I'd known her," Professor McGonagall said thoughtfully. "She died long before I was even born, though. She was very dear to Albus; he still misses her terribly."

"I miss Sirius," Harry said quietly.

Before he knew what was happening, Professor McGonagall had put her arms around him and pulled him close. Surprised, he froze for a moment before slowly accepting the touch. He'd just laid his head on her shoulder when Albus came back.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Professor McGonagall drew back and rubbed her eyes. "No, but I think we'd all better get back to bed. Thank Merlin it's still the holidays."

"You're right. Harry, you need to get to sleep. Now."

"Doesn't he have a DSP?" Professor McGonagall asked. At Harry's quizzical look, she added, "Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"We need to get a different type, the regular one's not working properly."

"I could go and get one now …"

Both Professor McGonagall and Albus looked at Harry, who thought for a moment and then shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll go without for tonight." He turned pleading eyes on Albus. "But only if you …" He trailed off.

"I will." Albus kissed Harry's forehead. "You're temperature's dropped."

"Really?"

"Yes. Almost back to normal now."

"I think," Minerva said seriously, "we need to talk about everything properly in the morning. I mean, later in the morning."

"I'll schedule an appointment with Poppy tomorrow," Albus said, already climbing back into bed beside Harry. "And I'll talk with Severus. And I'll write to Aberforth." He blew out the candle. "Goodnight, Minerva."

"Albus! What did you do that for???"

"Oops. But it's light anyway. You can see your way back to your rooms."

"That's not the point," Professor McGonagall huffed. "Goodnight, Albus, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry yawned, pulling the covers further up round him and Albus as Professor McGonagall left the room, shutting the door behind her quietly. Albus put his arms round Harry, pulling him closer, and Harry curled up in a ball in them. "G'night, Albus."

"Goodnight, cub," Albus yawned. "Good morning, rather." He paused. "Do you like the nickname? Don't feel obliged to say yes."

"No, I do, really. So, I got called 'cub' because you all thought I would be in Gryffindor?"

"Actually, there's more to it than that." Albus looked anxiously over at the clock, but saw Harry's wide eyes and gave in. "You had a toy lion … I think James bought it for you. It wasn't lost with the house; something else happened to it … I think you lost it in a park or something. But it was this massive thing that was twice your size and you used to cuddle up to it at night. I believe I've still got a photo somewhere … I can show you if you like."

A happy smile was spreading across Harry's face. This was what he loved – hearing about the life he had before, that he didn't remember. Although it made him sad, he also felt closer to his parents when people talked about them in a way that wasn't putting them down, like Snape did.

"What was the lion's name?"

"Er … Simba."

Harry snorted with laughter. Albus grinned. "I've always loved that film."

"So was that how I got my nickname?"

"It was Lily who gave the idea to me. I remember when I babysat for you once and you insisted that Simba joined us in the armchair and I read you both a story. You looked so small next to him. Then when your parents came home your mother said something like 'Look at the little cub snuggled up with the lions.' I called you 'cub' after that."

Harry smiled blissfully. "I like that." A thought suddenly struck him. "Albus … I _know _I've heard that song before … Did you sing it to me then?"

Albus shook his head. "No, I didn't. You liked 'Hush little baby' too much to let anyone sing anything else."

"Then … how come it sounds familiar?"

"I don't know."

"Liar."

"I think I do … possibly. But I'll look into it first."

"Fine, be that way."

Silence fell. Harry could feel his eyes closing and gave into it. The morning would be better …

-----

When Harry woke he groaned. It felt like he'd only been asleep five minutes. Albus heard him.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

He moaned in reply. "What's the time?"

Albus looked at the clock and groaned as well. "Eight twenty. How do you feel now?"

"Absolutely lousy," Harry muttered darkly, pulling the covers over his head. Albus pulled them back down and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"You're still a bit warmer than usual. You're staying in bed today, Harry."

Harry nodded, his eyes still closed. "What's that?"

Albus sat up, listening. It sounded like two people nearby having a heated argument. He slid out of bed, holding a hand to his forehead, and had just pulled on his dressing-gown when an angry voice yelled his name from the next room.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"

"Oh, no," he muttered.

The door flew open to reveal a very red-faced Molly Weasley.

"You are in _very deep_ trouble, Albus!" she stormed, flying at him as if she wanted to hit him. Harry saw him flinch, although that could have been because of the headache. "FIVE HOURS we've been waiting, after Remus woke us and told us Privet Drive was on fire! FIVE HOURS! You couldn't _once_ have thought to tell us Harry was -"

She stopped in mid-sentence, her mouth open as she saw Harry sitting up in bed. He grinned sheepishly.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley – Oof!"

**EaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGLEaGL**

Molly had run at him and was now hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Harry tried to wriggle out of her grasp but failed. She was now crying all over him.

"Oh Harry, oh Harry, we were so sure – Everyone was in a panic, and no-one could contact Dumbledore, and Remus said he was with you, and Severus was away, and no-one could find the Death Eaters, and the house was burnt right down to the ground, and once we got there we couldn't find any bodies or anything … Oh Harry, you've no idea how scared we were, it was like a nightmare -"

"It's okay, Mrs Weasley, I'm fine," Harry tried to assure her, but in truth he was shaken at what a narrow escape he'd had. He now felt utmost relief that he'd run away and Albus had come back to Privet Drive with him. If he'd been on his own he would be dead now.

"Oh, you stupid boy," she sobbed, rocking back and forth. "Of course you're not; you're in shock; you need someone to take care of you, you need a home now … Come on Harry, get your things – Do you have any things, or did you leave them all behind? – Albus, could you lend him some robes or something, we'll get you some proper clothes later – This afternoon we're going to the Ministry and we're going to sort this whole mess out; Arthur's got a contact in the Child Protection Office -"

"Mrs Weasley, what are you talking about?" Harry said shakily, trying to take in what she was saying.

"Oh Harry, you're coming back with me. Ron and everyone's awake, they're waiting to see you're okay; then we'll get your guardianship transferred so you can stay with us legally. It shouldn't take too long; normally they take months but we've had the paperwork ready for ages, I think all we need now is the signatures …"

Harry shot a panicked look at Albus. To his surprise, Albus wasn't looking at him; he was standing a couple of feet away and looking down at the ground, an unreadable expression on his face.

Molly continued, not noticing the look on Harry's face. "Albus, couldn't you at least have put him in a room of his own?"

"He did," Harry said, his thoughts rushing painfully through his pounding head. "I didn't want to be on my own."

"Oh!" Molly burst into a fresh set of tears and Harry kicked himself for blurting that out, but she'd paused in her ranting enough for him to think clearly, and he seemed to have gained Albus' attention again. Harry shot him a pleading look, and the one he got in return was confused, which in turn confused Harry.

"Molly," Albus spoke up, interrupting her flow for the first time, "I don't think Harry wants to be crushed."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry …"

She drew back, wiping her eyes. Harry took a couple of deep breaths.

"Mrs Weasley, I -"

"Molly, please, dear."

"Um, okay." Harry swallowed. "I, um, really appreciate all this and everything, but …" He paused, wondering how to phrase it.

Molly stared at him for a moment. "Harry, you're at Hogwarts. It's a school; it doesn't have to be your home anymore. You can have a _real_ home, with our family -"

"Mrs Wea – Molly," Harry corrected, the name feeling strange on his tongue. Stranger than 'Albus' had been at first. "Really, I'm okay here. I'm tired of my life changing around out of my control, and I've made my decision now. I want to stay here."

"But _Harry_, what about family? You've always wanted -"

"I've got one," Harry said firmly.

Molly looked taken aback. For a moment she stared at Harry, as if trying to comprehend his words, then she looked between him and Albus, and the Knut seemed to drop.

"Albus, do you think you could leave us a minute?"

Harry looked back and forth between them, confused. He didn't think it was very fair to kick Albus out of his own bedroom, especially when he'd only woken up five minutes ago, but Albus didn't protest, just nodded and left.

Molly watched the door shut behind him before turning back to Harry. His mouth went dry as she took his hand, a serious expression on her face.

"Harry. What do you really feel?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" Harry asked, stammering in his confusion.

"I was worried you may be saying those things because Albus was there," Molly explained gently. "I didn't want to just take your word for it in case you just felt obliged to say it in front of him."

His confusion clearing rapidly, Harry shook his head. "I'm sure, Mrs Weasley. I … Albus has been …" He struggled to explain. "He's been wonderful to me. He's like the father I never had." His voice shook slightly on the word, but continued determinedly. "W-we've got really close the last couple of weeks. I've just started getting my life sorted and I'm settling down. I don't want to change it now. No offence Mrs Weasley – I mean, Molly – but at the end of the day you're my best friend's mum, not mine."

He couldn't have been prepared for the hurt look that crossed her face, but he knew he had to continue. "I'm sorry, but I think – I know – this way's best for me. I'm okay visiting, but I think if I was living with your family permanently I'd just feel … out of place, like I was intruding. It's not your fault," he went on quickly, "it's just that you already have a family and I've always been on my own; I'd just feel like the odd one out."

Harry stopped and breathed deeply, relieved to have said it all but worried he may not have explained it well. Molly had her face turned down for a moment, so Harry couldn't tell how she'd taken it, but then she looked up.

"You're truly happy with Albus?"

"Yes."

She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. "Harry, if you ever change your mind …"

He nodded. "I'll remember."

Molly kissed him on the cheek. "Hermione's staying with us at the moment. Shall I send her and Ron over to see you? I know you must be dying to see them."

Harry considered. "I am, but … not today, Mrs Weasley. I'm really tired; I've had hardly any sleep and I don't feel well."

She felt his forehead worriedly and he restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he fought her off. "I'm fine – I'll be fine. I'll see them another day."

"All right," Molly sighed.

Harry let out a breath of relief. It seemed like another huge weight had been lifted off his chest.

-----

"What's that?"

Albus laid the tray down on the bedside table. "Breakfast."

Harry sat upright to see. On the tray was a glass of orange juice, a plate with dry toast on, a pot of jam, a bowl of what looked like pineapple rings, and an unidentified potion.

"What's _that?_"

Albus picked the bottle up and looked at the label. "Poppy gave it to me just now. She wants to see you later, but for now this is a potion for bruising."

"Oh." Harry took it and looked at it. "Do I have to take it now?"

"Well, you're supposed to take it with food, so I'd say yes."

Harry sighed. "Fine."

"You don't have to sound over-enthusiastic about it," Albus teased, uncapping the bottle.

"Ha, ha. I hate those potions. I always seem to get the foul-tasting ones to endure."

Albus sniffed the potion gingerly. "This one doesn't seem to bad. It smells like almond."

Harry pinched his nose as he gulped the potion down and shuddered. "Ugh. Not as bad as Skele-Gro, but not exactly pumpkin juice either."

"You had better get used to them," Albus said seriously. "If we can't tell what's wrong after today then we're going to have to go by trial and error … which will mean lots of nasty potions."

"Thanks, you just made my day," Harry said sarcastically, picking up the spoon from the tray.

"Sorry."

"Do you have any plans for today?" he asked, digging into the pineapple.

Albus smiled. "It's good to see your appetite is coming back. And my plans for today are seeing Poppy with you -"

"Apart from that."

"- and talking to Severus later. He's still asleep at the moment."

"Are you going to write to your brother?" Harry asked.

"Done. I don't know when he will reply. But in the meantime, I intend to do a bit of research." Albus stifled a yawn.

"Don't you have _any_ idea what the emeralds are?"

Albus shook his head. "I vaguely remember I story about some emeralds belonging to my family once, but whether those are the ones I couldn't tell you."

"Hopefully your brother will have some answers," Harry suggested.

"I hope so," Albus sighed, "or we're back to Square One."

Silence fell for a few minutes.

"Have you eaten already?"

"No," Albus replied, picking up Harry's toast and taking a bite out of it.

Harry slapped his hand. "Get your own, stop eating mine!"

Albus shrugged and Summoned a banana. "I also," he continued before taking a bite out of it, "intend to introduce you to an old friend of mine."

"Who?"

"Ah, you'll see later."

"That's not fair, you can't tell me I'm going to meet someone and then don't tell me anything about them. Male or female?"

"Male."

"Wizard?"

"Well … that's debatable."

"Did he go to Hogwarts?"

Albus laughed. "Not exactly. Not as a student, anyway."

"I give up," Harry muttered. "You're to going to give me any solid information."

"Of course not, I would ruin the surprise."

-----

"Where's Albus?"

Minerva jumped and looked up. "Severus! You're out of the Hospital Wing!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "A very acute observation." He received a swat in return.

"I was not trying to state the obvious Severus, merely acknowledging my surprise that Poppy let you out so early."

"She didn't. You know I can't stand her fussing. And I need to see Albus."

Minerva sighed. "He's in his quarters. I'll go with you, I need to talk to him myself."

The two of them walked in compatible silence to the headmaster's office, gave the password ("Skiving Snackboxes") and a second password ("Umbridge is an ugly toad") to enter Albus' quarters.

"Albus?" Minerva called.

"In here. Keep the noise down."

Severus blinked as he entered the room. He had been sure that a) Albus would be in his study and b) said room would be decorated in only Gryffindor colours. Instead Albus was sitting at a smaller desk than usual in a red-white-and-blue bedroom with the curtains drawn.

"What -" he began. The other two immediately shushed him, pointing to the bed. On closer inspection, Severus saw there was a figure in it, with the covers drawn up so far that only a few tufts of black hair were in view.

"Who's that?" he whispered.

"Harry," Albus said quietly, confirming his suspicions, and standing to leave the room.

"Albus, do you think it's a good idea to let him sleep through the day?" Minerva asked.

"I'm going to wake him at lunchtime. Severus, what are you doing out of the Hospital Wing?"

Severus made a growling noise in his throat. By now the three of them were in Albus' living-room. Albus motioned for the other two to sit down and Severus did so grudgingly, staring at the fireplace. It was quite a nice one – there were four carved tiles, each with an emblem of each of the Houses on: a lion, a badger, a serpent and an eagle.

"I have news," Severus said bluntly, helping himself without permission to Albus' Firewhisky. "Besides the burning of Potter's home which you obviously know about already -"

"You have information on his motive?" Albus finished questioningly.

"A little, but still invaluable." Severus took a sip of Firewhisky, intent on dragging it out. He loved knowing more than Albus did.

Albus and Minerva shared a look. Severus continued.

"It seems the Dark Lord was after an – item – that somehow found its way into Potter's possession. How it did, I do not know, you would have to ask the boy that himself."

Albus nodded. "We've already covered that: I gave the emerald to him. Do you know why Voldemort wants it?"

Severus choked on his Firewhisky. "How did you know that was what he was after???"

"Harry had a vision this morning," Albus and Minerva said in unison.

Severus grimaced. "So no doubt he would be able to answer all your questions himself."

Albus shook his head. "He only saw part of last night's events – I was hoping you could expand on what we already know."

"Which is?" Severus inquired, pleased to hear they still needed him.

"Only," Minerva said, "that You-Know-Who – alright, _Riddle_ – has two of the emeralds and that there are more, but we don't know how many. Albus has a third, but there could be more. We don't know what he wants them for, though."

Severus shook his head. "Some sort of ritual. He was very exited when he heard of them. I think they may increase his power a great deal – maybe even give him what he's been working towards all these years."

"Immortality?"

"In the worst-case scenario."

Silence fell in the living room.

"Well," said Albus at last, "at least we know one is safe. But if there are more, I think it would be wise to lay our hands on them before Voldemort does. Severus, do have any idea where they might be, or where they originated from, that might help us?"

Severus frowned. "He did mention the name of the last wizard who used them. Something funny … It began with M." He rubbed his forehead. "Mor … Morban?"

Albus sat bolt upright, his eyes lighting up. "Morcraban?"

"That was it. Why, who was he?"

"She," Albus corrected. He was almost jumping up and down in his excitement. "The most powerful Dark witch ever – she's just legend now. She came into power several thousand years ago – long before the Founders. Her enemies …" He seemed to freeze.

"Albus? What is it?"

"Her enemies were the Thoron family," he said in a low voice. "She cursed them so they lost all their powers. Every member of the family, reduced to Squib status." He looked at Minerva, who had a stunned expression on her face.

Severus drained his Firewhisky. "You think that's what the Dark Lord is planning?"

Albus shook his head. "Maybe. I don't know. I've already started looking into the emeralds' properties – if they are what I think they are, then taking power isn't the only thing they can do."

"If he took, say, your power, or Harry's," Minerva began hesitatingly, "does that mean he would have it, or would it just be lost?"

"I think it must be lost. Morcraban was eventually overthrown. If she'd had all the powers from the living Thorons at the time, that wouldn't have happened."

"Are there any living Thorons left?" Severus asked on a whim. "Maybe they could help us -"

Minerva looked at Albus.

"Two that I know of," Albus answered, "and the moment we've wrapped up this discussion I intend to find out who else there is."

"How do you intend to do that?" Severus asked in bewilderment. Albus gave the first smile since the beginning of the conversation.

"Look up my family tree."

**TBC …**

**AN:** Yes, I know, didn't seem like much to wait for … but there's another chapter – the rest of what I've been working on – coming up ASAP, hopefully within the next two weeks! I would have posted this one sooner but the next chapter was originally part of this one … I decided to cut it because it was so long. From now on I'll try to keep the chapters shorter so I don't take so long updating!

**Review Responses!!!!! (Finally!!!!!)**

The review responses I write ages ago that I should have posted at the end of Chapter Seven Teaser 1 I can supply you with if you want, but they're really out of date as I wrote them as I received them, and that was months ago.. However, if you can actually remember what you wrote in the review and want to see my response to it, by all means ask and I'll post them. All the reviews I've received since then I'm answering here.

I may have missed some people's out … sorry! I won't anymore – you won't believe how hard it is to answer reviews for THREE FFnet chapters at once!

Please excuse any typos, I'm hurrying this before the new Doctor Who starts :)

**Delenn Dumbledore:** I promise both Harry and Albus will be in every fic in the series (possibly excluding a couple of one-shots from different POVs I have planned, but that's besides the point) … Satisfied? Thanks for recommending my fic!

**Numb3ers-Freak, sweet as lemonz:** Try my favourites or my Yahoo group for more Albus-Harry ones – they're definitely short on the ground! I recommend Cuddlebearlove, Dzeytoun and Wulfric Gryffindor's fics. (Tell them I recommended them!)

**Freddie:** 1) Harry a descendant of Aminta? … You'll just have to wait till the next chapter, won't you?  
2) You got the Latnem bit right – it IS mental backwards. And Misfacio means harm.  
3) I'm doing a one-shot called When Honey Turns Sour from Snape's POV, which I seem to be stuck in the middle of, but when I've finished it it will explain a bit from his POV why he got the snake.  
5) Just don't do it again!

**XxLunaLovegoodxX:** Nope, the nightmares are not going from Harry to Albus – good guess though, I didn't think of it.

**Serena R. Snape:** Good guess … not quite there, but close.

**Dumbledore Prince:** See response to Delenn Dumbledore

**ChipmonkOnSpeed:** Um … I have no idea what he said. It was one of those open-ended statements left up to the readers; interpretations. I could make up something if you really wanted …

**court2010:** Wow … such a compliment! (_blushes_) It's Alex Harlequin, and I'm (shameless plug) working on a series of novels called Hidden Knight and hoping to get them published soon. :) I'm thinking of starting up a Yahoo group about them, so I'll let you know if I do

**Laume:** As I'm writing this it's currently 20 minutes till the first DW of the new series starts on BBC! I now have 2 crossover ideas, both AUs. I'll add you to the list interested so I can notify you when I start posting them :)

**Curalium Lacrimo:** Heather Louise isn't Aminta's daughter – Aminta died quite young (late 20s, early 30s – can't remember the exact age but I've got it written down somewhere) so Heather Louise wouldn't be old enough to be her daughter. Good guess though. Latnem isn't Latin, it's just "mental" backwards. Not saying anything on the Founder's heirs thing yet – all answers next chapter! (For real this time!)

**Cepharim, Spiorad:** Read the author's notes and then you'd know why Chapter Two is almost exactly like Chapter One. Thanks for reviewing.

**su, Kiss-This2010:** Harry is not behaving like a baby, he is simply close to a breakdown because of the emotional trauma he's been through, which is more logical than how he was portrayed in canon. Hope that clears that up.

**Crydwyn:** Uh, no, I didn't know about the blood/cold water thing. I'll bear that in mind when I send that chapter to my beta – thanks.

**Cindy Snowflake:** You'll see what Harry decides to do about sleeping arrangement closer to the beginning of term. And I doubt it would look like favouritism because apart from Ron and Hermione, who has to know? They could think up a reason why he's not in the dormitory at night. And about the rumours … I don't intend to have anyone think that. (_shudders_) Although in this day and age if anyone found out it they would spread faster than you can say "Actually, it's not like that …"

**PiER:** Tabby cats? Now there's an idea! And no, Heather Louise didn't sing the lullaby to Harry – good guess though.

**backyboo99:** Nope, no HBP. Although I do have another fic just beginning called Phoenix Tears which is what EaGL originally mutated from (so it has similar elements) back in the days when I wanted to write HBP from an Albus-fangirl point of view. So … it's what HBP would have been like if I'd written it.

**Minerva Rose:** I'm English and know perfectly well that Britain doesn't have States – I meant emotional/physical/mental state. I WILL have Chapter One to you … but my computer's mucked up and I can't find my previous drafts. Working on it though.

**Thanks also to:  
**  
**Crazy-Physco, Kristen, Ickle Hermykins, Hahukum Konn, bloomingrose89, phoenixstrike, BlackHalliwell, cutecess, Aldavinur, Baldur, alyssa, FlayingFoxFire, Mystiksnake, AngelMoon Girl, adge9631, Xavier Phoenix, leilanisangel2, Emma-girl, Wulfric Gryffindor** (nice to see you reviewing, hint hint!)**, Arica, Princess of Rivendell, mmcgonagall, shannyauburn, Rosaleen, Black Blood Dragon Goddess, jo, Anonymous, ChipmonkOnSpeed, snape504, Spiorad, Raven, Ada Eyes, Marauder Madness, BrightFeather, MCross, Dumbledoreschild, kittyrunner, GoldenPhoenix 12, Twilight66, ILoveFlitwick, melissa, sweet as lemonz, Apocalpticat, Flamegirl22, jbuggenz1, rosiegirl, US2UK06, Ember-FireDragon, Shimbaun, daeshie o'rivers, LightningFuryStrike13, jkh1, Shadow-Hawk Opal, catherine, excessivelyperky, OrganaSolo, Padawan Jan-AQ, Serena R. Snape, Ginny, SailorHecate**

I spent hours on these review responses because I really do appreciate my readers and think you all ought to be thanked. I should really have put review responses at the end of the teasers, then I wouldn't have so many to do, but thank you all for them and keep them coming!

**ABOUT UPDATING:**

I update when I can. That is the end of it. I'm hoping to shorten the chapters to get them out a bit quicker from now on, though. But don't nag me if I can't get it out quickly enough for your standards. I have a gazillion fics on the go (though this one is my top priority) and a long-term illness that affects concentration so I cannot be predictable.

Oh, and everyone, when you review, I like to hear what you actually LIKED (and didn't like) about the chapter, not just "Nice chapter, update soon". Okay? Thanks.


	11. Blood Ties

**Summary:** Harry is struggling to come to terms with the last year's events and having problems trusting people again. When Albus Dumbledore is appointed his new guardian he starts trying everything possible to help Harry reach out to others and see the beauty inside himself. But the rest of the world has other ideas …

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognise belongs to JKR … the rest is my invention!

**Author's Notes:** There wasn't any Heather Louise last chapter, I just noticed. She'll appear again in this one. Promise.  
Sorry, I know I said two weeks max, but then a certain penfriend of mine got on my back about SWaSL and I had exam revision as well … I've done all my exams now and started the work for next year. It's a LOT of work.  
Oh, and about this chapter: It's a very important one in terms of plot! Everyone asking about Aminta and Heather Louise, all your questions will be answered!

-----

_**Last Chapter**_"_How do you intend to do that?_"_ Severus asked in bewilderment. Albus gave the first smile since the beginning of the conversation.  
_"_Look up my family tree._"__

**Chapter Eight: Blood Ties**

"Harry? Harry, you need to wake up."

Someone was shaking him. Harry reached out to swat them.

"Come on cub, you can't sleep the whole day through – you'll just feel worse after."

Harry groaned and cracked an eye open. "Albus?"

"The very same." The bedspread moved as Albus sat on it next to him. "Did you have a nice sleep?"

Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Undisturbed."

Albus smiled. "Good. Are you hungry? It's nearly one o'clock."

"Famished."

Harry sat up, stifling a yawn. "Are those all for me?"

"Half," Albus said firmly, passing him a plate of sandwiches. "I hope you like cream cheese …"

Harry nodded, grabbing two sandwiches at once. "I feel okay," he said, feeling surprised as the thought struck him. "Not fevery, not sick, not shaky … practically normal."

Albus positively beamed. "That's brilliant. Amazing what a good night's sleep will do. Well, a morning's sleep."

"I take it I still have to see Madam Pomfrey …"

"_Yes_."

Harry sighed. "All right. I just thought it would be better for her if she saw me when I was worse."

"I know, but we want to find out what's wrong as soon as possible," Albus said gently, munching on a sandwich. "So your appointment is still on."

"Am I going after lunch?"

"No – there are a couple of things we need to talk about, and I think you'll feel better for a wash first as well. Do you want a shower or shall I run you a bath while you're eating?"

Harry considered. "Bath, please."

"All right." Albus kissed Harry on the forehead and stood up, still with half a sandwich in his hands. "I'll be back in a minute."

The sandwiches were cream cheese with celery, and bacon, lettuce and tomato. He leant back on his pillow, experimenting with a mouthful of both, and spent a few moments wondering when he had last felt this content.

_Never_, he noted with surprise. _My godfather's just died and I'm suffering from a probably life-threatening illness … but I feel happy_.

Harry's face split into a grin just as Albus came back.

"Something funny?" he inquired.

Harry shook his head. "Just thinking."

"Careful, or you'll choke on your food," Albus said, sitting back down on the bed. "Harry?"

"Mm?" Harry replied through a mouthful.

"We need to talk about something."

Harry nodded, swallowing. "Fire away."

"Your family."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "My family? What about them?"

Albus sighed. "I just found out … Well, I suspected over the summer, but I just found out for sure." Harry nodded for him to continue. "My sister … Aminta … was your great-grandmother."

Harry choked and Albus gave him a bang on the back. "Sorry, I shouldn't have let you take that bite …"

"Wh-what?" Harry stammered. "Did I hear you right?"

Albus nodded. "Yes."

Silence fell in the room. Albus seemed to be watching Harry for his reaction. Harry, however, was completely shocked. _Aminta Dumbledore_ was his _grandmother?_ He was _related to Albus?_

"Are you … positive?" he said weakly.

"No mistakes. And it explains a lot."

"It does?" Harry said blankly.

"Remember that lullaby?" Albus said with a wry grin.

"Yes …" Harry said slowly.

"Guess who wrote it."

"Aminta?"

"Our mother actually, but it was a good guess."

"So … why didn't you mention this before?" Harry asked. Albus chuckled.

"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure – especially considering what your being related to me would mean," he said, finishing in a more serious tone.

"Somehow I don't think I can climb up any higher on Voldemort's "To Kill" list."

"I know, and I wasn't just talking about Voldemort – I _was_ wary, but he wasn't the only reason. You see, there's a story attached to the family history … Remember when I told you most of my family were squibs?"

Harry nodded.

"A long time ago – we're talking hundreds of years – there was a Dark witch called Morcraban … Heard of her?"

"Nope. Go on."

"She put a curse on the family so they lost their magic. Obviously the curse is wearing off now, but it lasted a long time. The story of how the family was cursed has been embroidered in so many places no-one knows the exact truth, but every version has these factors: the family had a talent for Seeing, among other things, and Morcraban put the curse on the family because they were too powerful for her; they kept ruining her plans."

"Oh."

"When magic started coming back into the family, the Seer talents came too."

Harry pondered this. "Do you have it?"

"I do. I rarely use it, though."

Harry was startled. "Why?"

"Because Sybil Trelawney is right when she says the Sight can be a burden – although she means in a different way than I understand."

"How?" Harry asked curiously.

Albus sighed. "True Seeing is a little different to what Sybil does. Divination is split into prophecy and premonition. You know what prophecy does."

"I do," Harry murmured.

"Premonition is different. It comes in visions rather than riddles. If someone has the Sight, they can tap into it whenever they want, but it is very tricky to use. Many people have accidentally Seen things they would rather not. It's rather unreliable too – the further ahead you look, the more so. The Sight often only shows a possible future, rather than what _will_ happen." He paused thoughtfully. "It's also rather wearing."

Harry thought. "That's what runs in our family?"

"It is," Albus agreed.

"Do you think it's possible I have it?" Harry asked warily, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

"I think it's probable," Albus answered, surprising him. "Mostly the magic and Sight goes hand in hand. You can get the odd exception to the rule, but that's pretty rare."

"How do I know if I can See or not?"

"If you can, then you're probably on the edge of discovering it. Most Seers begin to be able to use their talents during adolescence. It varies with person to person. I didn't have a vision until I'd just left school, but my brother had his first when he was twelve. I think the average is about sixteen, though." He smiled at Harry, who was baffled and slightly alarmed.

"How do I learn to control it?"

"Well, you'll be able to yourself eventually, but it's best if you learn from someone else. My parents taught me. If you have it, I can teach you."

Harry paused. "So … that's why you didn't mention it?"

"One of the reasons. I was also wary of Voldemort, however much he may want to kill you at this point, and … Well, lots of reasons, really." Albus heaved a sigh. "Under normal circumstances … Never mind. I'll tell you later."

"Albus!"

"Your bath's ready."

-----

Harry rubbed his eyes, trying not to drift off to sleep. The bath was just the right temperature, filled with even more varieties of bubble bath than in the prefect's bathroom, and the walls were painted calming shades of pale blue, green and pink.

Albus was his great-uncle.

Well, technically his great-_great_-uncle, but the revelation had been surprising nonetheless, however many greats there were in the title. Harry was still slightly unsure what he felt about it.

On the one hand, he was delighted to find that he had other living relatives – Albus _and_ his brother, who he was curious to meet.

On the other hand, Albus had been just as wonderful to him before he knew they were related: this shouldn't change their relationship. Should it?

But the thing really bugging Harry was the realisation that he could have grown up with Albus – He'd looked up the Potter family through several generations last year, and Aminta was definitely not one of them – so that meant she had to be his grandmother on his mother's side … Which meant that Albus was of her blood. Which meant that Albus would have been able to protect him just as well as – better, considering he was a wizard (not to mention Albus Dumbledore) – the Dursleys.

So all those years of trauma had been for _nothing_.

-----

"Ah, Mr Potter. I was hoping I would have a break from your frequent visits to see me this summer." Madam Pomfrey's eyes showed she was joking.

"Alas, Madam Pomfrey, it seems I'm destined to be your most frequent patient," Harry joked back. "Where do you want me?"

"Your usual bed. I've been thinking of putting a 'Reserved' sign up …"

"Do you want me to stay, Harry, or shall I go?" Albus asked.

"Stay," Harry said firmly. "What's that?"

Madam Pomfrey held up what looked a bit like a cross between a wand and a Secrecy Sensor. "This is a Healer's Rod – the quickest way to detect injuries and ailments. But before I start poking it everywhere, maybe you could take me through your symptoms again?"

Harry zoned out as Albus began running through the explanation, snapping back when he paused. Madam Pomfrey was looking thoughtful.

"I don't think we should rule anything out for definite yet, but it seems I was right to I doubt this is _Latnem Misfacio_ – but that leaves us with a bigger problem, because I've never heard of anything else like this."

Harry mentally groaned.

-----

Harry stifled a yawn as the walked slowly back from the Hospital Wing. Albus looked at him.

"Bed," he said firmly.

"I'm not complaining," Harry muttered. The appointment had been exhausting. After what seemed like a lot of poking around with the Healer's Rod, Poppy hadn't told them much that was new to them. What she had found interesting – and scary – was the bruising on the joints – the bruises seemed to be coming from nowhere. It was almost as if some invisible force was slowly eating away at them.

Loaded down with potions for bruising, sleeping and goodness knows what else, Harry felt more tired than this morning and not entirely satisfied with the outcome of the appointment. In the end all that had been agreed was that all they could do for now was trial and error. Albus and Madam Pomfrey had both asked if he was prepared to take the risks that could come with experimentation, and Harry insisted that he was. His illness or whatever it was seemed far from harmless and he felt he didn't really have anything to lose.

-----

Harry squirmed nervously. The closest he'd got to having dinner with no-one but his teachers was Christmas in third year, and even then there had been a few students around. Now, in the summer holidays, he would be the youngest there, and it felt weird. Albus had suggested they eat in his rooms again, but Harry thought it would be a good idea to socialise and make the most of it. Besides, Heather Louise would be there, and he hadn't seen her for ages.

She wasn't there at first when they arrived. There were very few teachers at the table – just Flitwick, Professor Sinistra, and Snape, who seemed to be carefully ignoring Harry. Harry, suddenly remembering his vision of the Cruciatus, decided to return the favour until he'd figured out his thoughts on the subject.

Heather Louise entered about five minutes after he'd started eating. He leapt up (Snape scowled as he nearly pulled the tablecloth off) but Albus got there first. Harry was just close enough to hear them talking.

"Mr Dumbledore!" Heather Louise exclaimed. "Minerva said you and Harry were here." She glanced over at Harry and waved.

"Heather Louise," Albus greeted pleasantly, "please call me Albus." Before Heather Louise responded, he lowered his voice and said so Harry could only just hear, "I need to talk to both of you later. I'll get Minerva to let you know."

"Oh … thanks." Heather Louise smiled at him. "That's the first time you've called me by my first name."

Albus grinned, winked, and went back to his seat. Heather Louise took her place next to Harry.

"Not as easy as it sounds, finding your way around a magical castle, is it?" she said cheerily to him. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi, Heather Louise," Harry grinned. "How … how are you doing?" he asked, remembering Heather Louise's mother.

She sighed. "Minerva's helping me through it."

"First-name terms?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

Heather Louise gave him a look. "From what I've heard about you and your headmaster, you shouldn't be that surprised."

Harry shrugged. "Fair point, but Professor McGonagall's not your legal guardian."

"No, but … What?"

"My godfather left it to him," Harry explained through a mouthful. Snape sent him a glare and he swallowed quickly, choking. Heather Louise thumped him on the back.

"Oops. Sorry."

-----

After dinner Albus announced that he and Harry had a couple of things to talk about, and that he would come and see Heather Louise later. Harry bade her goodbye quickly and followed Albus back up to his rooms. After entering his office, there was a separate small room leading off of it which contained a suit of armour and nothing else. Albus gave the armour the password and it saluted before jumping aside to reveal the door.

"Shouldn't you have a bit more security than that?" Harry asked as they entered the living-room, opposite the grand fireplace. "I mean, if someone knows the password, they can just walk in."

Albus chuckled. "Just because my office passwords are based on a theme, Harry, does not mean I lack in security. For instance, I never have the same password for both entrances. The suit of armour is disinclined to let in anyone other than Hogwarts staff unless accompanied by me (I'll be changing that later so it recognises you) even with the password. And the gargoyle downstairs curses (harmlessly) anyone who gets the password wrong more than twice."

"But …" Harry thought. "In my fourth year I went round about twenty guesses before I got the correct one. Cursed how?"

"The curse is one not unlike the one your friend Hermione cooked up for Miss Edgecombe – which, tell her from me, was quite a remarkable piece of magic." Albus looked at Harry. "But except me, because I am prone to forgetting which one I had this week and I don't fancy walking around with the head of a goat. It must have let you off the same reason it never worked on Aberforth – it got confused with blood relations."

Harry snorted with laughter. "Don't tell me, your brother gave you that idea, right?"

"How did you know?"

"Something you mentioned in fourth year about him and a goat charm, or something."

"Oh, yes." Albus did not look too happy remembering.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So, what were the 'inappropriate charms' he put on the poor goat?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Go on," Harry wheedled, intrigued by the look of embarrassment creeping onto Albus' face.

"Absolutely not. You're far too young."

This comment did nothing but make Harry even more curious and he was about to ask exactly _what_ was in the story he was too young to hear, when Fawkes appeared in the middle of the living-room with a letter.

"Oh," Albus said, obviously relieved to be able to change the subject. "Aberforth's replied already."

_Albus –_

Hope you're well. About these earrings; Father gave the emeralds to me years ago. Well, I say he gave them to me; actually I took them from his desk. But I'm sure he would have given them to me anyway.

He told me about them, though. He said they'd been in the family for centuries, and they were originally discovered in Egypt with some others the same. The others have got lost over the years; I can't tell you what happened to them.

I think there's a legend about them somewhere; something about each of the gems being magically bound to any blood member of the family, or something like that. I think it stems from the time Morcraban was rising to power. There's probably an accurate record somewhere in the old papers at the Manor.

I'll have a dig around here, but I think family records are the best place to start.

Aberforth

"Typical Aberforth," Albus muttered. "But at least that proves my theory."

"What theory?" Harry asked interestedly.

Albus sat down opposite the decorated fireplace and Harry sat facing him. "Minerva and I spoke to Professor Snape this morning. He confirmed what you'd seen in the vision and added some more, invaluable, information." Harry sat up straighter, eager to hear. "Severus thinks that Voldemort wants the emeralds for some sort of ritual – something that will greatly increase his chances of winning this war." Harry gulped.

"You mean, like make him stronger?"

"I don't know," Albus admitted, "and nor does Severus. There are several different things he could be planning, none of them good.

The theory I had that Aberforth confirmed was where the emeralds came from in the first place." Albus took a deep breath. "There are five of them – Voldemort has two, we have one, and the other two could be anywhere. They were created by one of our own ancestors, as it happens; that's how Aberforth had them."

"What exactly do they do?" Harry asked nervously. "What's their purpose?"

"You remember Morcraban?" Harry nodded. "Unless I've got my family history muddled, those were what she used to curse the family."

"So … they can remove people's magic? Like yours or mine?"

"Precisely. But there's more to the emeralds – the man who created them, Amon-Akins, developed them for a completely different reason … I just don't know what it was."

Harry groaned. "Is it possible to find out?"

"I hope so, or we're in trouble – particularly us."

"Why particularly us?"

"From what I can remember, those emeralds are linked to family members. If Voldemort had all five there's no knowing what he could do to either of us without coming anywhere near Hogwarts … that's why I was anxious when I found out about our link," he added seriously. "Having Thoron blood puts you in as much danger as me."

"Could he do something with only two emeralds, or would he have to have all five to be able to use them at all?" Harry suddenly thought of something. "You don't think … that's what's happening to me? Voldemort using the emeralds he has?"

Albus stared at him, the thought obviously not having crossed his mind before. After a moment he said slowly, "We can't rule it out."

Harry swallowed, unsure whether to be scared or relieved. Albus stood up suddenly, making him jump. "I've got something to show you."

When Harry looked at him questioningly he merely grinned and moved towards his fireplace. There were four tiles above, each with an animal engraved on them: a lion, a badger, an eagle and a serpent. Albus pressed the eagle and the stone sunk about half an inch into the stone before moving back into position. He continued to do this several times, each with a different animal, in a secret combination. Then he stood back.

The fireplace sunk into the wall and spun round, revealing a large, dark space. Albus gave Harry a nudge on the back and he stepped through nervously. The other side was pitch black. As he tried to see through the darkness he heard the doorway closing behind him.

Suddenly light flared up in many lamps. Harry blinked, his eyes watering.

The room was _huge_. The domed ceiling was half the height of the Great Hall, and half as long. The curved walls were lined with shelves, bookcases, display cases, cupboards and cabinets. Things were whirring animatedly all over the place; it was a flurry of colour. At the end of the room hung a pair of heavy, moth-eaten curtains.

"Welcome, Harry, to my secret grotto."

"Wow," was all Harry could manage. "What is all this stuff?"

"Various little items I'm accumulated over the years. Books. Artefacts. Weapons. I'd rather you didn't mention it to anybody, most things in here the Ministry would probably want to confiscate."

Albus pulled open the nearest cabinet and took a small box down from the top shelf, opened it and showed Harry the contents.

"One Thoron emerald," he said in satisfaction. "The chances of Voldemort getting to this one I would guess a being less than zero."

"Who knows about this place?" Harry said in amazement, drawing nearer to a glass case opposite in wonder.

"Careful," Albus warned him, "don't touch anything. Some things in here are dangerous. And, besides Minerva, you're the first in about …" he paused, thinking. "A hundred years, give or take a couple of decades."

"Wow." Harry peered as close as he dared to the glass. "Is that what I think it is?"

Albus grinned and with a flick of his wand the front of the case vanished. "A family heirloom. I would rather keep the other in here as well, but stories travel so well around the school and people know all about it and want it on display."

"Can I …?"

"Go ahead. Be careful."

Harry reached into the case and gently lifted the silver sword from where it lay on its royal blue cushion. "Did you say family heirloom?" he asked, lifting it close enough to read the engraved name below the sapphire-encrusted hilt: _Rowena Ravenclaw_.

"I certainly did."

"You're – _we're_ – descended from Ravenclaw?" Harry asked in amazement.

"That's right." Albus gently brushed a fleck of dust off the blade. "And Godric Gryffindor as well."

Harry nearly dropped the sword. "_What?_"

Albus chuckled. "History left out the fact that they had a son. Lawrence, his name was. He married a Thoron and the rest, as they say, is history. Well, for some."

"Blimey," Harry murmured. "How do you know all that?"

"I'll tell you in a few minutes." Albus took the sword back and placed it carefully back into its case. "I imagine you want to look around here a bit more before I introduce you to my friend."

Harry looked at him sharply and he grinned back. "I promised, didn't I? Anyway, he won't run away. Take your time, and don't touch anything. I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as Albus moved back towards the doorway leading out of the fireplace.

"To ask Heather Louise to join us later. Then I shall come back -" Albus pulled a lever of some sort and stepped into the doorway. "- and introduce you two. He's been dying to meet you for years."

"Oh, okay."

Albus winked at him. "Back in a minute."

Harry gazed at Ravenclaw's sword for a moment before tearing his eyes away and scouring the room. He had already resolved not to touch anything before Albus had told him. Something caught his eye, and he stared for a moment before drawing nearer.

A scythe hung on the wall. But it was no ordinary scythe. The handle was heavily and ornately engraved with a pattern that for some reason sent shivers up Harry's spine. The blade was sharp, unmarked and the place where it joined the handle was topped with a yellow-white stone carved in the shape of a skull.

This would have been strange enough, but what really grabbed Harry's attention was that the scythe seemed translucent – he could see the wall through it. The weapon was surrounded by a sort of ethereal glow, like a ghost.

"What's that?" he asked quietly as he heard Albus re-enter the secret room.

"I have no idea," Albus admitted. "It was found in the manor I grew up in. It was brought here by levitation charms, you can't actually touch it. Look." He stretched out a hand and attempted to grasp the scythe but it slid straight through. "See? You try."

The ghost-scythe was not solid, but Harry could definitely feel something. Like trying to grab water, he thought. It creeped him out and he withdrew his hand quickly.

"Didn't you say you were going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, yes," Albus said brightly. "Over here."

Harry watched in confusion as Albus pulled back the moth-eaten curtains. There was nothing behind except the centre stone was bigger than the others by about half as much again, and jutted out half an inch or so. Albus had picked a gold-handled dagger from a shelf and put it to his finger before Harry realised what he was doing. "Albus! What's that for?"

Albus chuckled and wiped a drop of his blood onto the stone. "No worries, I've done this hundreds of times." He ran his wand over the cut, healing it, and stepped back to see the stone. "Good evening, Godric."

Harry opened his mouth.

He closed it again.

Words had engraved themselves upon the stone.

**Good evening, Albus. I see I've finally managed to talk some sense into you.**

"Godric?" Harry whispered. "Godric Gryffindor?"

**Yes.**

"_The_ Godric Gryffindor?"

**Do you know of another?**

Harry glanced at Albus. His eyes were twinkling with amusement.

More words appeared.

**I must say Albus, you were right. The boy is most perceptive. You must be so proud.**

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

**Godric Gryffindor at your service, my dear boy. Now, was there something in particular you wanted, Albus, or did you just feel like introducing me to Harry on the spur of the moment?**

"Actually, I _do_ have a bone to pick with you," Albus started. "Two words: Aminta and Harry."

**That's three words … Ah. Oops.**

"Yes, _oops_," Albus said, sounding half-annoyed, half-amused.

**Dare I ask how you … um … found out?**

"I had a look at the tree this morning to confirm suspicions."

**That's … nice. Well. Congratulations.**

"_Godric_."

**All right, I'm sorry. But I was only following orders. ****Your**** orders.**

"Wait – you knew Albus and I were related?" Harry asked, only just cottoning on to the conversation.

**Of course. I'm guessing Albus has not got round to explaining that I have a link to the family tree – I know everything. I tell you, it hurts my head. If I had one, that is.**

"Very funny," Albus muttered.

"Why didn't you say something?" Harry asked, confused. "Well, write something, I mean."

**Your Uncle Albus refused to let me talk about the tree again after Aminta died. When he first mentioned Lily, and then you, I wanted to tell him but I have no defences to stop him giving me a good jinx, so I didn't.**

Albus snorted. "Never stopped you before."

"Did he tell you about the Dursleys?" Harry asked. He felt he deserved an explanation why he had to grow up with his aunt and uncle when he had family elsewhere. Not wanting to be cursed did not sound like a reasonable excuse to him.

**Well, he mentioned they had been a last resort. Why?**

"I think Harry means," Albus said quietly, "that had I been aware of the fact that Lily was my niece then I could have given him the same blood protection Petunia offered without making him grow up in a cupboard."

For a moment Godric stayed blank. Finally he wrote,

**Oh.**

Dear.

Harry, I am so sorry. I never realised …

"Save it," Albus muttered. "Harry and I have some things to discuss elsewhere."

**I really am sorry.**

Albus drew the curtains back over the stone and silently exited the large room. Harry followed.

"Albus," he asked finally, "if you'd known … never mind."

"If I'd known, Harry," Albus said firmly, "You know what I would have done."

Harry looked up hesitantly into his resolved blue eyes.

"You … you would have …?"

"Harry," Albus said gentler still, "If I'd known I was blood related to your mother I would have taken you in in an instant. You know that."

"Really?"

"I _wanted_ to, Harry, I wanted to so badly, you wouldn't believe. I didn't because I didn't believe I could give you the protection the Dursleys offered." He and Harry both shuddered at the name. "If I'd known I could have, I would have taken you without question; I swear."

A lump arose in Harry's throat and stayed there while Albus closed up the fireplace and conjured a pot of tea.

"About Godric …" Harry stalled, wondering how to phrase his query. Albus seemed to read his mind.

"Harry, Godric is perfectly legitimate. He is nothing like the diary."

"Just checking."

Albus smiled. "I'm sure he would appreciate it if you didn't mention him to anyone, though."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Because Soul-Stones are normally powerful Dark magic, and have been classified as such. If the Ministry were to find him, he'd be destroyed."

"Is that what he is, then? A Soul-Stone?"

"Yes. There's a long story attached to that fact, if you want to hear it?"

"I'm all ears."

Albus chuckled slightly. "Well, what I'm going to tell you, you won't find in any history books. I had to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

Harry chuckled.

"Godric and Rowena's son – Lawrence - was involved in a nasty accident when he was young – you don't need to know the details, but he was dying from the injuries, and the Healers in those days weren't as advanced as they are now. Godric had heard rumours of a coven of demons living in the south, and he tracked them down, brave man."

"Demons?"

"Yes, demons. First rule of life – never deal with demons. They always hold to their word – unless the contract is destroyed – but you can never tell in whole what their word is. You never know what will happen to you."

"I'll remember that."

"Good; make sure you do. Anyhow, when Godric got there he was in a terrible state. Zoltan was the only one he could find, and he did a deal with him. Poor Godric would do anything to save Lawrence, and Zoltan agreed to save him if Godric … sold him his soul."

"His _soul?_"

"Yes. Everyone thought he'd died, and of course Lawrence made a miraculous recovery. But Rowena knew in her heart something wasn't right. She figured it out, of course, but the only way out of the contract was to destroy it, and that was one thing she couldn't do. Instead she made a deal of her own – I don't know how she did it, no one does, and Godric never said. But she threatened the demon in some way, and next thing you know, Godric's sealed in a Soul-Stone."

"I take it that's a permanent fixture."

Albus nodded. "It is, unless the stone is destroyed. I don't know what would happen to Godric's soul then, and I'm not sure I want to think about it."

Harry could understand that. He fell silent, thinking about the story. Godric was braver than his reputation gave him credit for, and _that_ was saying something.

So why hadn't he told Albus they were related? It didn't make sense.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Harry asked. Albus looked at the clock.

"I asked Heather Louise to come about now. Minerva's showing her here. When I looked up the tree this morning, I made another discovery."

Harry raised his eyebrows and Albus chuckled. "Out of all the people you could have run into in France, trust you to end up staying with your second cousin."

**TBC …**

AN: The plot thickens. Again.  
The story behind Aberforth and the goat came from AgiVega's story _Gadding with Goats_ (which was written for April Fools' a few years back and is the most hilarious piece of fanfiction I have ever read). She gave me permission to base my version on hers. I'll have to see whether Harry ever finds out the very humiliating story … (PS: If you read/review it, tell her I sent you.)  
Oh yeah, and anyone who wanted Heather Louise to be a slightly closer relation to Harry, e.g. sister, sorry. Too Mary-Sue-ish for a start. Besides, she'll end up a sister-like figure to Harry anyway. Heather Louise's heritage does play an important role later, this isn't just for the sake of it.

**Review Responses******

Kiss-this2020: Well, no, technically it wasn't her maiden name, but close enough I guess! Not much MMAD interaction in this chapter, I apologise. There will be a little explanation about the nature of their relationship in the next chapter.

**xxlildevilxx1506:** I wouldn't say they never went past a teacher/student relationship in canon, especially after DH (I think), but I do wish they had been a bit closer and more honest with each other. And when Hermione kept telling Harry all the way through DH that Dumbledore loved him, JKR could have done the decent thing and have Albus tell Harry himself in King's Cross. (_sigh_) Just one sentence, that's all it would have taken to stop me from throwing a fit. It would have made Albus' character a lot less ambiguous – really, you have to read between the lines in DH, and a lot of her readers don't do that and get the wrong impression about him. THAT's what I don't like about the seventh book.  
Oh, that and the fact that, apart from Harry being a Horcrux and a couple of minor, obvious ones, all my theories turned out to be reading too much into canon combined with wishful thinking. But I would have got over that easier if JKR had put in that one sentence …

**rina riku:** I am very aware of this fact and not because you are the hundredth reader to point it out. If you read the author's notes you would see why chapters one and two are similar.

**Ada Eyes:** Mm, yes, the scene with Molly wasn't my favourite but it was a tough one to write. Albus and Minerva's relationship is … complicated. See next chapter for more info. And yes, Snape/Albus/Harry's relationship from now on will be … interesting. Yep, Albus is a Thoron. I think I made it pretty obvious actually. Remus will play a part, you'll see in a bit, and Ron … wait and see.

**PiER:** Well, 50 years give or take! If it was 50 years in CoS then that would mean they got married when she was 18-ish. I suppose I should pick an accurate date, shouldn't I:) As for whether they're back together … well, see next chapter, because Albus will tell Harry the story. You will get some fluff … eventually …  
Heather Louise is also descended from Aminta (not Aberforth), but it was a very close guess! Well done. Five gold stars!

**Shadow-Hawk Opal:** I actually read a fic (Celebony's _Recnac Transfaerso_, terrific read, made me cry and was the inspiration for all of EaGL's angst) where Harry gets cancer and ends up planning to transfer it to Voldemort. I won't tell you the ending though :) I do like having Voldemort around so I won't kill him off in a hurry, so lots of angst beforehand! As you put it, lots of sappy, suspenseful, teary stuff!

**ImSoMMAD:** Thanks! I hadn't realised you hadn't read this one, I'm so used to seeing your name on reviews I lost track of which ones you had and hadn't reviewed. Hope you carry on, hint hint :)

**Lady Eliza:** Hermione and Minerva are a lot alike, I enjoy playing with that. I have now added another possible answer to Harry's 'illness' to the list – who dares make a guess what's really wrong? And wow, another person right about Harry and Aminta! Did I make it too obvious?

**HyperMint:** You don't know what DIY is? (_jaw drops_) It must be a British thing, I assumed everyone would know. DIY stands for Do It Yourself – for example, painting a room instead of hiring a professional would be DIY. Putting wood together to make a shelving unit rather than buying a bookcase would be DIY. And so on. I am aware that Latnem is "mental" spelt backwards because that's why I picked it. If you know the author Celebony, she made up a spell by translating one word into Latin and turning the other backwards. I did the same.

**endgegner07:** Thanks for being understanding about the updating thing. Did you know that on MuggleNet I could be booted off for putting in ANs why I have a problem with updating? Sheesh. I did write to them about it but they said I was welcome to tell readers individually in PMs, just not post publicly. Huh. As if I'm going to PM each individual reader. Hope FFnet don't start that policy is all I can say. Sorry for the rant, thanks for reviewing :)

**anaknistanas:** They'll have an interesting relationship – better than in canon, anyway! Not sure about being as close as an uncle figure, but mentor definitely – eventually. Wait till he gets the OWL results, then you'll know what I mean.

**Nidhoegg:** Fortunately, Monty and Conan were already at Hogwarts with Harry's trunk! I did miss out that scene where Albus sends Harry's stuff to Hogwarts, once I've edited the chapters it'll be in there. I already thought of teddy pyjamas, and the sheep are going on my list. I really don't think I need any more suggestions – my family came up with about 30 on our holiday one evening whilst waiting for our meal to be served. If I run out I will ask for more. And Albus didn't realise/didn't think about the Weasleys even knowing what had happened, which is why he didn't let them know he was okay. Poor Weasleys. I couldn't fit them into this chapter, they'll appear in the next.

**kittyrunner:** Who said the angsty interludes aren't important to the plot:)  
Thank you for that. Really, I mean it. I think I sort of rushed the book which in the end turned against me – I missed reading between the lines. Actually on the first whiff of manipulative!Albus I was (briefly, I hasten to admit!) tempted to close the book and not read it at all. But I thought my brother would get upset (not to mention my parents) if I had a ceremonial burning in the back garden. Plus I was curious to see what JKR would do with it.  
I'm still not completely happy with DH – see my answer to xxlildevilxx1506 – but that does make it a bit easier to think about, though I still get a bit of a queasy feeling thinking about it. I'm not sure what it is, but something about his character spooked me. I think I'm beginning to see a bit of myself in the bad side of him (not the power temptation, but the desire to break free of his responsibility to his family) and it's making me feel all guilty.  
I will read the book again. But I don't think for a long time.  
(I did re-read King's Cross after I got your review, actually. I couldn't bring myself to read The Prince's Tale though. I wasn't ready to start weeping.)  
PS: As thanks for your enlightening review, I gave Albus Mickey Mouse PJs in _Mih Evas_ (I was writing the next chapter when I received it and it was easier than finding a place to slot them in in this chapter). I haven't actually posted the chapter yet but I will very soon.

Thanks also to **IckleHermikins, fufu.a.k.a.speechless, Reader, phoenix, cutecess, adge9631, Crazy-Physcho, backyboo99, mmcgonagall, shannyauburn, kremit, Lang, XChocolateChipX, David M. Potter, PadyandMoony** and **DuShuZhi** for reviewing!


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